The Beginning
by songwriter16
Summary: SYOT! IN CAPITOL! The Dark Days are over and the Capitol Council has appointed a new president. Snow, a young but powerful ruler, has developed a new idea, a stronghold to put all the remaining districts in their place. The one event that at the mention of the name, children everywhere will cower: the Hunger Games.
1. Prologue

**Welcome the 1****st**** Annual Hunger Games! The SYOT is now closed, but once all the reapings are posted, I will post a list of possible alliances you can vote for (by PM only please) on my profile.**

**Enjoy the prologue! **

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

* * *

Prologue

_One year before the Reaping..._

"The districts have wronged the government, yes that is so, but what is your suggestion for punishment, Snow?" probes the Head Councilman.

The young president stands, an intimidating, almost regal air about him. He paces at the head of the Capitol Council conference table. Snow smiles coldly at those seated before him. In his mind, they are in their natural state. That is, below him.

"My proposal is great and may require resources and money funded for by the districts and possibly the Captiol resident's taxes," begins Snow, "but I promise you that it will be an excellent consequence to the defeated rebels."

"We are already low in terms of budget, President," counters the Council Accountant frustratedly. "Your plan may not be possible in the present state of our nation."

"I fully understand that factor, Branson," says Snow harshly. "However, this event will force the districts to obey our each and every command. It does not have to start next year. I have got a plan, you know."

"Will it only be a one-time conviction?" interrupts the Head Councilman.

"Not at all," Snow retorts. "It will take place every year at the start of summer. The Capitol will fund for an arena. It will differ immensely each year. And in this arena will be one young man and woman from each district."

"Will this be a sort of competition?" inquires one Councilmember.

"Indeed. The most brutal, nasty competition Panem has ever seen," says Snow intensely. "This boy and girl will be chosen in a ceremony called a Reaping. They will be sent to the Capitol for an interview, parade, and training before it begins."

"And what exactly will this training be for?" the Head Councilman interjects doubtfully.

"Killing," Snow replies simply. There is a prideful tone to his voice. This sends a wave of alarm throughout the Council.

"E-excuse me," stammers another member, "killing?"

"Yes," the president says. "The tributes will be sent into the arena to kill each other. The last one alive will be named victor and their district will be showered in riches of all sorts for exactly one year."

"How does this show the districts that we are dominant?" asks a Councilmember.

"By taking the young men and women, we are telling them that we are in charge. Defying us means death. Following us means hope," retorts Snow. "The last one standing in the arena means that the districts are not all hopeless. There is a chance for them to be proud of where they live. They will not strive to lose, thus turning several into our personal lapdogs."

The young man scans the Council with dangerous eyes, searching for those who may disagree with his brilliant ideas. Most looked intrigued by his words, others slightly cynical.

Out of a briefcase, Snow pulls a sleek, thick black folder. He then proceeds to distribute the papers within the Capitol Council.

"This," Snow announces, "is the ultimate penalty for those who have campaigned against us. The war is over and we have triumphed. The districts deserve this. The competition will thrust them into our hands. Of course, under the terms of my drafted Treaty of Treason, no tribute will ever dare to rebel. Anyone who tries will be disposed of quickly and quietly under my orders."

The room is mute for several minutes as the Council skims over the papers.

The Head Councilman sets down the draft of the Treaty and proposal and glances furtively at his fellow Councilmembers. They nod in harmony.

Snow grins coldly. They have accepted.

"It is genius, I assure you, President Snow," confirms the Head Councilman. "But what is this competition to be called?"

Snow pauses dramatically, wanting to heighten the Council's curiosity even more. He declares the name at last.

"The Hunger Games."

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**Hope you enjoyed it! (:**

**Remember to reivew. It encourages me to write the Reapings faster. ;)**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**


	2. District 1 Reaping

**Hello everyone! Welcome to the District 1 reaping of the first annual Hunger Games! Thanks to The-Musical-Genius and TinkerBell980 for creating these spectacular tributes. I can't wait for the arena! (:**

**Sing Out!**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim rights to any part of Suzanne Collin's creation, **_**The Hunger Games. **_**All rights belong to her.**

* * *

DISTRICT 1

_Matthew Harrington, 13 years, District 1_

The announcement of the Hunger Games hit me in the face like fifty pounds of diamonds. In other words, it was a complete shock.

When the broadcast ended, the television switched off, I rushed up to my ginormous walk in closet and hid. It was then that I knew it would be my name picked out of the bowl. I would be the boy 'reaped' from District 1. My life wouldn't change that much anyway. My 'parents' certainly wouldn't care; and neither would Jacob, my brother. He'd be happy to finally be an only child.

My best and only real friend, Sasha…she would definitely care. How could she not? I've known her the entire 13 years of my life. I can honestly admit that I love her. But not as a friend. I won't listen to anyone who says it's not true. Even the people who claim to be my parents.

I remember a time when I my real mom and dad were alive and well. They were good friends with Sasha's parents. Sasha and I asked them to plan us a 'wedding.' And they actually did. Sasha's mother bought her a white dress and my dad helped me pick out a little tuxedo. They even had a custom cake made. We had the money back then. We DO live in District 1.

I almost smile at the memory of Sasha in her dress, but no, I can't. I never smile. Ever.

What's the point of being happy if today is the Reaping? I might as well just walk up onto the stage set up in the Main Town Square when I arrive. It's going to be me anyways. I'm going to die in the Hunger Games.

"Matt! MATTY! Hurry up, it's lunch time!" my brother yells at me, pounding repeatedly on my bedroom door.

"Hold your stupid horses, I'm coming!" I call, straightening my gray silk shirt.

"Come faster!" shouts Jacob, stomping noisily down the stairs.

I sigh and smooth down my already straight, shiny blonde hair. I stare at my face in the large crystal mirror in the bathroom.

My skin is pale and my nose and cheekbones spotted with freckles. My ice blue eyes scan my Reaping clothes. A dark gray silk shirt and black slacks. Nice enough to get sent to the Capitol, I guess.

I exit my bedroom and go downstairs to the dining room.

Allure and Glow (my 'parents') and Jacob are already seated and eating. Allure points to the other end of the long table. There is a small plate of chicken and peas at the very last seat.

I trudge past my fake father, Glow, and stumble. Allure and Jacob laugh as I glance down to see that Glow had stuck his foot out. On purpose. I brush the front of my shirt off and clear my throat, then with as much dignity as I can muster, I trudge to my seat.

As I sit down, Allure starts the conversation with Jacob and Glow again.

"What were you saying, Jacob?"

"I was saying that I hope I don't get Reaped," my brother says haughtily.

"Oh, I assure you, if you are, someone else will volunteer for you," Glow comments, giving me a hateful glance.

Oh, yeah…the _rules. _A few nights ago, Glow decided to pay attention to me and sat me down in the living room to talk about the Reaping. He told me that no one wanted me here and that if Jacob's name is called, I will volunteer.

I switch into robot mode. The cold, uncaring, insufferable part of me that I show when around those I live with.

Of course, I can't call Allure and Glow my real parents or even my family because they treat me as if a stupid dog.

My real parents were murdered by the Capitol when I was about seven years old. Jacob was just six and actually knew what was going on, but the Capitol medics gave me and my brother some sort of purple liquid that made Jacob forget about our real mother and father. The medics then convinced Allure and Glow to accept Jacob as a son and pretend to be his mom and dad. The serum didn't work on me and Allure decided they only wanted one perfect child and tried to give me back to the orphanage, but the mayor made sure I stayed where I was. I don't thank him for that. At the time, I wanted to be with Jacob, to care for him and make him remember. But that obviously did not happen.

But as for the cruel part of me, not only do Allure, Glow, and Jacob see it, others see it, too. Kids at school look to the proud, cold Matthew Harrington, the richest kid in District 1. Only Sasha sees who I really am: a shy, emotional teenage boy who hides in his own skin.

I finish my lunch and take my plate to the kitchen.

At one thirty, we leave the house. I try to exit through the front door before anyone else, but Glow smacks the back of my head just as my fingers touch the doorknob.

"Get behind us, midget," he barks, pushing me roughly to the side. Jacob smiles smugly as he passes through the doorway, Allure's hand on his shoulder protectively. Glow goes out after them. I start to follow, but my fake father slams the door in my face. I blink rapidly and leave the house, trailing my "family" to the Main Town Square.

I gaze up at the tall buildings of the Trade section of the city. The Trade section is for the middle-class of District 1. The poorest part of District 1 is the Worker section. The Worker section is where the factory employees live. Most of them don't live that bad, honestly, but I still wouldn't want to be a factory worker.

In the factories, luxury items are made for the Capitol. There are many jewel encrusted items and such. Glow is the Trade company executive, which means he makes good money and runs the Trade business section alongside the mayor. We live in the Crown section of District 1. This is where the richer families live.

We arrive at the Square and Allure motions me over.

_Is it possible that they may actually worry about me getting Reaped this year? _I think hopefully. Then I realize that my fake mother's face is stern and unfeeling. _Scrap that previous thought, then._

"Go to your section," orders Allure. I turn quickly and begin to walk away.

"Oh, Jay-Jay! Be careful!" I hear her cry.

"I will, mother, I will," Jacob confirms. I roll my eyes at their cheesy conversation. Glow starts to talk, but I tread away from them to the table where the Peacekeepers sit. My finger is pricked, the blood scanned, and I'm released to my roped off section. I find the male thirteen's area and start to walk in, but a pleasant, familiar voice stops me.

"Hey, stranger," says the voice. I whip around to see Sasha. I smile slightly.

"Hey," I greet.

"Are you ready?" she quizzes. I sigh.

"I guess so," I reply.

We stand on either sides of the rope so we can still talk.

"I'll bet it's going to me," I comment glumly, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"Oh, come on," scoffs Sasha, "you don't know that. There's maybe a one percent chance it'll be you."

"Whatever," I retort, scowling as I stare off into space.

"Matt," she says gently, "stop. You need to lighten up a bit. It's me, remember? Sasha, your best friend?"

"Not going to happen," I say. I take her hand in mine under the rope. "You'll just have to live with my moody self."

With this comment, I am completely serious. One day, I'm going to ask Sasha to marry me. I _know _she'll say yes. She told me so herself. And I believe her.

Sasha grins at the sight of us holding hands, a slight pinkness in her cheeks. However, we speak no more.

Soon, the newly constructed Justice Building's bells ring out. I guess that means the Reaping must be starting.

Two Peacekeepers open the door of the Justice Building and the mayor walks out. He walks up to the microphone positioned precisely between the two enormous glass bowls containing names of eligible tributes.

"Good afternoon, District 1, and welcome to the Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games."

Then he explains what will take place after the tribute's names are read. The Treaty of Treason is read aloud to us for the second time since the announcement of the Games.

"And now it is time to meet our district escort, Miss Gypsy Damien," announces the mayor cheerfully. The Justice Building doors open once more to reveal a Capitol lady. She walks out on monstrous blue high-heeled shoes. Her hair is white and dotted with different colored glitter and her skin is a soft pink. The dress she's wearing is puke green with a bright orange and yellow swirl pattern which clashes with the shoes.

But the most mesmerizing part of this woman is the strange gold swirl tattoos that wind all the way up her hands and arms to her neck.

"Ugh," I hear Sasha grimace. And ugh is right.

"Hello, District 1!" she says merrily. My eyes widen at her deep masculine voice. "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" Gypsy giggles in her deep tone, making me scowl. It sounds very unnatural and gross.

"Now," she continues, "it is time to pick the girl tribute's name. Let's see who this lucky, lucky person will be!"

Sasha squeezes my hand as the escort teeters over to the bowl and frantically digs around the bowl for the perfect slip of paper.

I hold my breath and wait impatiently before hearing the name read aloud into the microphone.

"Ivory Spindel."

I breathe out a sigh of relief and see a tall, willowy blonde girl in a white dress making her way to the stage. She obviously older…you know, the curves and all…But then I look at Sasha who smiles at me. Light brown hair and sparkly green eyes. _My _kind of perfect.

I pay no attention to Gypsy until she's back over at the microphone with another slip of paper.

_I just know it'll say 'Matthew Harrington,' _I think nervously. _Matthew Harrington, Matthew Harrington, Matthew Harring-_

"Matthew Harrington."

I knew it. I just knew it. I will die.

I gently release Sasha's hand and go up the stairs to where Gypsy and Ivory stand.

"Well there you have it, folks!" cheers Gypsy happily. "Our District 1 tributes for the first annual Hunger Games!"

The district escort tells us to shake hands.

Ivory takes my hand firmly, giving me a bright and almost kind smile. I, however, keep my face neutral. The cold, unfeeling part of me. The side that longs for my real parents. The part that hides my love for Sasha from my fake family. The part that knows I will surely die in the Hunger Games.

Gypsy and a few Peacekeepers lead us into the Justice Building and deposit Ivory in a cream-colored room. She waves at me as the door clicks shut. What's with _her? _Is she trying to sway me or is she just naturally nice?

I'm put in an almost identical room next to Ivory's.

I slump down on the plush couch and rub my eyes. I feel as if this should be a dream, not reality.

After about five minutes of blankly staring into space, a girl bursts into the room. It's Sasha. She skids to a halt for a moment, just staring at me. Her eyes are shining with tears and fear. I stand from the sofa.

Sasha rushes over and squeezes me in a tight hug. I try to be that stone-faced person I usually am, but it just doesn't work. I hug my best friend back tightly.

"Matt! Oh, M-Matthew!" she sobs into my shirt. I stroke her hair gently, my eyes brimming with tears.

_No crying, _I tell myself gruffly.

"Calm down, Sasha," I grumble softly. I can't take this...

"How can I?" she cries. "You're being sent into a place where kids KILL each other! You could die!"

I take her face in my hands, my emotional levels rising more than they should.

"Sasha, if I really do die," I say. _And I most likely will, _"I need you to know that I love you."

Her eyes are wide, but not with disgust. It's a look I'll never forget. It's excitement, surprise, love, and anger all rolled up into one glance in her green eyes.

"Once we both turned eighteen, I was going to propose. You know, for marriage. I know we're just thirteen, but...I really do love you," I finish.

Sasha responds by kissing me. And to this, I don't object.

"And I love you," she says once we pull away. And for the first time in a long time, I grin widely. She smiles back. "Now _that _I've missed."

We hug for a very long time.

"Miss, your ten minutes are up," a Peacekeeper growls, swinging the door open.

Sasha gives me one last piece of information to carry with me into the Games.

"Win," she whispers. And with one last quick hug, she's gone.

I lay down on the couch, my head in my hands. I knew this was going to happen. I just knew it.

_I'm going to die, I'm going to die, to die, die, die..._

The words echo back in my mind, leaving me shaking in terror and anxiety.

Then the Peacekeepers come back. They tell me that it's time to board the train for the Captiol.

But the only thing I can think of as I step onto the train is how Allure, Glow, and Jacob didn't even come to say farewell.

* * *

_Ivory Spindel, 17 years, District 1_

I rifle through my somewhat large closet. What will be the best outfit? If I wear red, I'll look to sassy or 'bad-girl.' Blue is too 'I'm quiet and shy.' Green would tell the world that I love nature, when obviously I don't. When I'm Reaped, I've got to be wearing something that says _beauty and innocence _written all over it. I am the Queen of Manipulation, after all.

That is why I absolutely LOVE the Capitol. They used their power, intelligence, and wit, along with just a dash of manipulation, to win the war. That's my sort of town. _I _am the Capitol and my victim is the lowly district. By not only my looks, but my high intellect as well, I can make anyone follow my every command.

I chuckle to myself at the thought. It's almost too easy.

_Perfect, _I think, fingering the flowy white material in my closet. I slip on an ivory dress with a silver sash. Just impeccable. The very essence of virtue and being untouched by the horror of the Dark Days.

I check my long dark blonde hair in the mirror. I brush it out until it's smooth and shiny. Leaving it out of a braid or ponytail makes me seem kind and charming. That's exactly what I want them to think. Them being the people of my district and the Captiol citizens, of course. This outfit and the way I hold myself may make me seem like the kind of person who looks after children in her spare time or a girl who simply adores others. The simple statement: I don't do either. By manipulating and making certain 'friends,' I'm always one step ahead of everyone else. Not that many people like me genuinely anyways.

I leave my room and strut into the living room. My brother lays slumped on the couch, still sleeping.

"Cotton!" I call. "COTTON! COTTON SPINDEL!"

My brother is so aggravating. He's 24 and still hasn't married or anything.

"Shut your flippin' mouth, Ives," he grumps. "It's too early for your voice to be heard by my ears."

"It's one in the afternoon, you moron," I say. "Get your lazy behind off the sofa and go make me lunch."

"Um, one word. No."

"Mm hm, sure," I retort. I switch on the charm. "But you know, I really am hungry and I'm not sure how to work the appliances. And if I don't know how to work stuff, I'm burn my pretty hand. Then I'll get frustrated and start yelling. Please?"

I make my bright blue eyes big and pleading, pouting my full lips just a little. This is an expression that solves all my problems. Works like a charm every time.

Cotton sighs.

"Fine, as long as it gets you to shut your yap," he says, putting his feet firmly onto the beige carpet.

"Thank you," I reply. I keep grinning until he's past me, then roll my eyes in annoyance.

Another one of my top-secret methods of manipulation? Acting. I'm a terrifc actress, so my influence on others is flawless.

I go into the kitchen to wait for my food.

My brother stands at the stove and sighs again.

"Why did I agree to this?"

"Because you love me so very much," I scoff dramatically. Cotton giggles (yes, my 24 year old brother still giggles like a schoolboy) tensely. I sit at our small table in the middle of the kitchen.

"Not always."

"Not always what?" I ask innocently, resting my chin on my hands curiously.

"Never mind," he grumbles. I narrow my eyes at Cotton's back.

That's another part of me that anyone would kill for: sensing weaknesses. It doesn't matter if it's physical, emotional, or even mental. I pick it up easily. And right now, my weakness alarm is ringing like crazy. I'm not sure exactly why, but I'll figure it out later.

Cotton presents me with a huge tomato and cheese omelette.

"Tada," he says flatly.

"Thank you," I say sweetly. This time it's Cotton's turn to roll his eyes.

"Whatever."

I eat my lunch quietly, not saying another word.

"So what happened between you and that boy, Gleam?" inquires Cotton bluntly.

I smile smugly at the mention of my ex-boyfriend. "I dumped his sorry butt."

Cotton shakes his head at me as if disappointed in my decision.

"Don't you disapprove of my decisions with dating, brother," I scold grimly, waving my fork at him. "Your girls are either too good for you, or are too stupid to know that you're a complete jerk."

"Get going, Ivory," says Cotton angrily. "You'll be late."

"Fine," I say, irritated. I slam my fork onto my empty plate and stomp out the front door.

I strut to the Town Square, well aware of the many boys that stare as I pass. If I see one I like, I flash them my dazzling grin. Any girls who look scared get a taste of my kind smile.

See what I mean? Absolutely fabulous.

I get my finger pricked by the Peacekeepers and stand in my section near the gender dividing line. It's boys I manipulate best.

The mayor walks out and welcomes us. I do my best to look innocent but confident, maybe slightly anxious about-

UGH! Who is this woman who has just walked up onstage? Her skin is pink. PINK! She must be from the Capitol.

Like I said, I love the Captiol. Maybe it's the Captiol's powerful leader's _minds _I love, not the fashion.

This lady is introduced as Gypsy Damien.

"Hello District 1! Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor!" she chirps.

Oh my gosh...her voice is even lower than Cotton's! I literally laugh out loud. This woman is ridiculous!

She then tells us that she'll be drawing the female tribute's name first. She click-clacks over to the glass bowl and digs around for a name, some slips flying out of the bowl and floating lightly to the ground.

I giggle at her outlandishness. This is too good!

She goes back to the microphone.

I straighten the front of my dress and smooth down my hair. I hope it's my name that's picked! I get to go to the Capitol if I'm chosen. If I'm not, I bet I can volunteer. If it's not my name that's read, I'm volunteering. And the Games? Piece of cake...

"Ivory Spindel."

Without hesitation, I quickly walk up the steps of the stage. I smile, knowing the cameras are all aimed at me.

"Now for the boys," Gypsy says gleefully.

I grin and wink at a younger boy gazing at me. He blushes a bright pink. A normal reaction to my winks.

Gypsy reads the boy's name with her masculine voice.

"Matthew Harrington."

A short, blonde-haired boy trudges up onstage, his face serious and impersonal.

Gypsy seems glad and instructs the two of us to shake hands.

This is my chance to start playing with the boy's mind.

I grin kindly at the smaller boy, but he doesn't respond. Oh, well. That doesn't matter. I'll get him to open up. My weakness alarm is going off. I can already sense what his fault is. He hurts something terrible and hides it with his cold stares. I can't wait to crack his shell.

The Peacekeepers, along with Gypsy, lead me to an eggshell colored room. The boy doesn't come.

I give him another smile and a small wave as if to say _you can trust me. See you soon. _I didn't smile too broadly or wave too frantically. The key to perfect manipulation is not overdoing your acting.

Another blank stare from my fellow tribute.

The door shuts and I groan. I can't help but be frustrated at the thought of killing other people. However, if disposing of unworthy victors means I can live in a big house and be famous away from Cotton, I don't mind one bit. They're all below me anyways. It's not like anyone will miss them.

I sit daintily on the ivory (ha, funny) sofa and wait. But what am I waiting for? I don't know. Oh well.

I run a hand through my dark blonde hair, a gesture that drives guys wild. I smirk. I wonder if any boys will miss me. Then I remember that WHEN I win, they'll be falling over themselves just to see me in real life.

A person enters. I make myself seem a bit uneasy, but still poised. I drop the act when I see that it's my brother.

"Oh, it's you," I deadpan.

"Yeah," he says. He treads to the sofa and sits well away from me. His face is full of alarm and fear. Is he worried?

"What are _you _doing here?" I sneer.

"Saying goodbye," Cotton says as if it's the most obvious known fact in the world.

"Well, goodbye," I say. He sighs.

"Goodbye." He gives me a quick side hug and leaves. I roll my eyes. Stupid brother. Doesn't he know that his very own sister, Ivory Spindel, is to be crowned the victor of the very first Hunger Games?

I sit quite bored for several minutes.

Then I hear several knocks on the door. I sit up, making myself look taller, my eyes wider, face fallen slightly.

Three boys walk in. All ex-boyfriends. I smile broadly at them.

"Hi, guys," I greet cheerfully.

"Hey, Ivory," says Gleam sadly.

"I'm sorry you were Reaped, Ives," Emerald pipes up , wanting his share in feeling sorry for me.

"Yes, I'm so sad for you," Cam admits grimly.

"Oh, boys, boys, boys," I coo, strutting over to where they're standing. I bat my eyelashes at them. "I'll come back to you, I promise."

"But-but you won't last very long out there. You're so nice and pretty. They might all try to kill you," Gleam worries. His bright brown eyes are large and miserable. He grabs my hand, rubbing my knuckles gently. I always did like him best.

"You're all so sweet," I tell them. Oh, how easy it is messing with their minds! "But it's time for you all to go, alright? I'll see you very, very soon. Trust me."

One by one, they kiss my cheek. Gleam goes last.

"Remember me," I whisper in his ear. I kiss him quickly on the mouth. "Now go." I pat his side gently and he exits in a daze.

Out of all the boys I've tricked (and the numbers are quite high), he is the most attractive and easiest to convince.

Now just to crack Matthew. Once that's done, I'll be off to a tremendous start.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed the first Reaping! I won't post another for a couple of weeks cause I've got other stories I have to work on! **

**Reivew!**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**


	3. District 2 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 2 Reaping of the 1****st**** Annual Hunger Games! **

**Glad to have everyone back reading. Hope you enjoy! And a very special thanks to Emmeline C. Thornbrooke for the female tribute and TheGoldenLiar for the male. You guys are awesome tribute creators!**

**Let's see if we can spike the reviews up to eight, shall we? ;) One reivew=another chapter!**

**And I'm sorry if this Reaping isn't as good as the last. I've had to write through some serious writer's block. Forgive me if you don't enjoy it. :/**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

* * *

DISTRICT 2

_Derek James Martins, 12 years, District 2_

My best friend died two years ago today. His name was Lance. He was struck ill with a horrible disease exactly six months before he passed, the same day the Dark Days ended. I miss him more than anyone will ever know.

Lance was basically my brother. Heck, I lived with him for five years.

When I was five years old, my parents kicked me out of the house. I was wild, rebellious, and desperate for attention. They got annoyed with my constant yelling and hyperactive rule-breaking so one day they just tossed me outside. They threw out my favorite teddy bear and slammed the door in my face. I was alone. I was homeless. And I was only five.

I went to the first place a five year old would think of: my best friend's house. Lance's mom accepted me as her own son and his dad was happy to call me Lance's long-lost brother. They treated me as if I really was a member of the family. Even when Lance's sister, Venus, was born, they called me her big brother. Then Lance got sick when we were both ten.

I think about him every day. My parents tell me to forget Lance and move on with my life. 'He's stiff and cold as stone now, so why does it matter?' they tell me.

Today is the second anniversary of his death. But today holds another meaning. Today is Reaping day.

Six months ago, the Capitol broadcasted an announcement. It astonished us all. The new head of Panem, President Snow, told all the districts of the bombing of District 13 and read his Treaty of Treason.

My parents just laughed when the president told of the arena and what the 'tributes' would have to do to each other. I don't laugh at death. But I don't expect much more from my parents. They're idiots.

"So when do you have to go home?" Ryker quizzes me.

"Um, don't you remember?" I scoff. "My parents don't care if I'll be home soon. Today we have the Reaping. I told them I'd be going with you and Colton."

"Oh, yeah," grumbles Ryker.

Ryker is one of my many friends at school. Although, I wouldn't really call them friends. All the guys in my year are jealous of all the things my parents get me. They'll buy the very highest quality of everything in District 2, but not because they love me or anything sappy like that. They want me to leave them alone so if I beg and annoy them enough, I get something new.

Even though most people want to be friends with me, I only let a few into my 'inner circle,' as they've nicknamed it. Ryker and Colton are the two I hang out with the most. I have no idea why though, because they are both major jerks. However, I can't say much more about them because I'll be describing what I, myself, have become. To be honest, it's not something I'm proud of.

Why am I a jerk? I'm not really sure. The death of Lance hit me harder than anyone really knew. I would spend nights alone, awake and miserable, wishing I, too, would die just so I could see Lance again. I wanted to throw myself away. Changing helped me get through the days and survive my parent's wrath. Why I morphed into a self-righteous, best-at-everything idiot is unclear, even to me.

"Why aren't you going home? Won't your parents worry?" says Colton.

"I don't want to see my mother cry today. _That's _not embarrassing," I say sarcastically. "Besides, they're coming to the Reaping. It's not like they won't be there if I'm picked."

That's a lie. They won't be there. Dad told me so himself. He said that they 'weren't to be bothered with such nonsense as the Hunger Games' and 'we have better things to do than watch stupid kids get sent off to the Capitol' (which is where they wish we lived).

"I'm twelve now," I continue haughtily. "I think I'm old enough to walk myself to the Town Square."

Ryker and Colton nod in agreement.

"True, James, true," Ryker approves.

That's another part of me that changed when Lance died. I'm no longer just Derek, I'm Derek James Martins, son of Brutus Martins, one of the most rich and powerful Peacekeeper training instructors in District 2. My friends call me James. I can't say I like the change, but being called Derek reminds me of Lance.

"We should probably go to the Reaping," Ryker suggests. "It's almost one forty five."

I groan. A stupid Reaping. Maybe Dad was right. It's a flippin' waste of my time. At least, that's what I want Ryker and Colton to think.

My real opinion? I'm scared. I'm scared out of my mind for this. If Lance were here, he'd crack a joke just to clear the air of tension. But I'm alone.

We exit Ryker's house, his parents and two brothers trailing a fair distance behind.

We stare longingly at the Peacekeeper Training Center, wishing we were there instead of on our way to the Reaping.

In District 2, kids start training at age eight. Ryker, Colton, and I have been learning to fight for over two years. Hand to hand combat is my specialty, and I am the best in my year. No one crosses me.

We reach the crowded Town Square and push our way over to the check-in table. A Peacekeeper pricks my finger and drips my blood in a small portion of his book, then scans it and tells me to move on.

I walk slowly away from the table. If Ryker and Colton want to come with me, they'll just have to catch up. And they do.

They follow me to the section for twelve year old boys, all the way up in front near the stage.

"This is ridiculous," I comment, scoffing at a short black-haired boy to my left. His eyes are wide and his fingers fidget uneasily.

But on the inside, I feel like him; wondering what my fate will be and being absolutely terrified of what is to come.

I straighten myself. I can't afford to think like that anymore. That way of thinking died when Lance did.

"Wimp," I cough. Ryker and Colton snicker as the boy glares at me. I shrug and smirk as if to say 'it wasn't me.' The kid scoots away. I roll my eyes to make sure Colton and Ryker feel the same way.

"What is with him?" taunts Colton.

"Who knows," Ryker says.

"He's got nothing to worry about. It probably won't be him anyways," I assure them. "We have a big district. Besides, the chance of a twelve year old getting picked is like three million to one. There are hardly any of us. There must be three times as many sixteen year olds. Trust me, it won't be one of us."

This last comment is more of a self-confidence boost. Ryker and Colton don't seem to notice this. The two nod in agreement.

The new hall in front of us, I think the Justice Building, must have bells because they're going off.

The mayor of District 2 and an eccentric-looking man walk out of the building. The man's hair is jet black with streaks of blue and his skin is a sickly pale green. His hands are completely freaky. They're webbed; like a frog's. His clothes are pink and light blue, a hideous combination with his skin and large yellow eyes.

"Is this guy serious?" Ryker whispers.

"I think he's from the Captiol," says Colton.

"He's got to be," I tell them. "Have you seen his hands?"

I smirk slightly as they see the Captiol citizen's web mutation.

A woman, the mayor of District 2, walks up to the front of the stage.

"Welcome District 2 to the 1st Annual Hunger Games Reaping!" she announces happily. "I am so glad to see you all here! I hope you're just as excited as I am for this historical event! Before we begin the process of the Reaping, let me explain how this will work. When the tribute's name is read, he or she will come and stand onstage before the entire district. Then the two will shake hands and will be allowed to say their goodbyes to any friends or family before they are shipped off to the Captiol for the honor of representing District 2 in the Hunger Games." The mayor gestures flamboyantly to the Capitol man next to her. "This is Argyle Ziv. He came all the way from the Capitol and will be the tribute's district escort. Please give a big round of applause for Argyle Ziv!"

I roll my eyes as the district applauds half-heartedly. Colton starts to clap, but Ryker nudges his side and looks over at me. Colton nods embarrassedly.

Thank goodness they follow my every move.

The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason and steps out of the way for Argyle to speak.

"H-h-h-hello, D-District 2," he stammers in a semi-high voice. "I-I'll be d-drawing the names o-o-o-o-of the t-tributes. O-oh yeah, I-I-I forgot. H-Happy H-H-Hunger Games and m-may the o-o-odds be e-ever in your f-f-f-f-f-favor."

I hide a laugh. Wow...this guy is a joke.

He runs over to the bowl on his right and plucks the slip of paper on the very top of the pile. Then he scurries over to the microphone.

"K-Katherine J-J-Jasmine Thomas," he declares shakily.

I watch as an older, dark-haired girl steps onto the stage. I don't pay much attention to her at all. Girls don't really interest me (even though I act as if they do).

"N-n-n-now for the g-g-girls—I mean, b-boys," stutters Argyle stupidly.

My heartbeat accelerates as he scurries over the the glass bowl on his left. I lean forward towards Ryker and Colton.

"Come on, guys," I whisper. "It won't be any of us. Let's get out of here."

They both nod and me and my friends begin pushing back through the crowd of boys.

_Maybe if I'm not here, my name won't be called. And if it is and I'm not here, I won't have to go, _I think frantically, trying to convince myself of its truth.

"Derek J-J-James M-Martins."

I halt in my tracks, blood running cold, mind shutting down. I spin on my heel. It's my name. It's me that is now a tribute in the Hunger Games.

I stand in a plush silver and gray room.

I can't cry. I won't cry.

_I'm twelve years old, _I think frustratedly. _Crying is for babies. But that girl cried when they locked her in that room across the hall...HECK WITH IT! I WLL NOT CRY. I'm afraid. I shouldn't be, but I am. I am absolutely terrified. I'm going to die. Just like Lance._

A single tear leaks out my eye. I wipe it hastily away. My face burns with mortification and dread.

The door creaks open and I instantly stand up a bit straighter.

"Hey, James."

It's Ryker and Colton.

"Sorry you have to go through with this, dude," Colton says, not sounding one bit apologetic.

"Things happen." I wave it off nonchalantly. "It's not a big deal."

"But what if you are killed?" wonders Ryker, a fiery sneer in his brown eyes.

I run a hand through my chestnut hair. Was Ryker always this bold?

"That won't happen guys, trust me," I say firmly but casually.

"But what if it does?" says Colton.

"Then I guess we'll be the best at everything, not him," Ryker suggests sharply. "We'll be the dominant forces in our year."

Anger boils inside me and my heartbeat jump-starts again. They were _using me._

I narrow my pale green eyes.

"Just wait," I hiss. "I will survive. I will be crowned victor, then you'll be sorry you ever crossed me in the first place."

"Time's up, boys," says a Peacekeeper, throwing open the door.

"Good luck out there, _Derek," _snarls Colton.

"Yeah, don't die," Ryker mocks. They both chuckle and exit the room, slamming the door behind them.

"How could they DO this to ME?" I whisper hoarsely.

On anger impulse, I grab a porcelain vase and throw it to the ground, the gray stone shattering all over the wood floor.

"NO!" I screech, kicking the shards across the room. I smash more artifacts, yelling and screaming my head off.

WHY did this happen to me?

WHY was it me chosen for the HUNGER GAMES?

WHY did Colton and Ryker USE ME?

WHY did Lance have to DIE?

WHY AREN'T I DEAD YET?!

And as for Colton and Ryker, they'll see that I'm not one to mess with. They will watch me win and kill. Then they'll pay. I promise you, THEY WILL PAY!

* * *

_Katherine Jasmine "Kaja" Thomas, 16 years, District 2_

_Your hand is cold, your eyes are closed_

_You'll never see, I sit alone_

_The hole is wide, the flowers won't grow_

_Sleep in peace until the sunlight glows in the earth once more_

I've never understood those lyrics. To me, it's just another lullabye I learned before my mom taught me before she died. But she wasn't my birth mother. My real mom died in childbirth and my father committed suicide shortly after. Flora and Canyon adopted me when I was ten. I've called them mom and dad from the first day. I acted as if they were my real parents and it felt like I was their real daughter.

However, that all came to a tragic end when Canyon and Flora were killed in a break in just after my fifteenth birthday, a little over a year ago.

Mom had just had twin girls a few days before, so I took the girls and fled the house to the outskirts of District 2. The Peacekeepers found us and let us stay where we were.

I had to name the two girls myself. The lighter haired girl I named Iris Eloise and the darker haired one I named Patricia Jane. To me, they are Rissa and Trish, my only family in the entire world.

My best friend Lilly helped me find a place to settle down with Riss and Trish. She's seventeen, just a year older than me.

There's only one problem with our ages: we're both eligible for the Hunger Games. I hear others in school and training talking about it. Lots boast about how the Games is their chance at fame, glory, and endless riches. I think I'll stick with my three-room shack and clear conscious, thank you very much! I'd rather not kill other children. The whole idea is heinous.

Lilly have already discussed what the plan will be if I'm chosen for the Games. Rissa and Trish would live either with the nice lady next door, Mrs. Leaves, or Lilly would run away from home and live in my shack. The last option I don't approve of, even though it's typical Lilly. Her parents despise me, even though they've never met me before. They are protective, but irrationally. Not only are they irrational, they're also hard to please and cold-shouldered. At least that's what Lilly has told me.

But today is the Reaping, and I have to focus on just getting through the day. It's ten in the morning and Rissa and Trish still haven't gotten up.

_What a great chance to write a new lullabye, _I think contently.

I grab my song notebook and pencil and sit down in my armchair by the wood heater.

What can I write about?

I flip through the pages of unfinished songs and find a great opener.

_From the hills of the country, to the leaves on a tree, there's a sound echoes so loud. _Beautiful.

You could say music is my haven, the secret world where what I feel and love comes through in analogies and metaphors only I will understand.

I started songwriting when I was twelve. I was inspired by what Lilly was going through with her parents.

_But they backhanded you, told you things that weren't true_

_And I can't bear to see you this way_

_You tell me you will move out, but you're too young yet_

_And I'm glad your faith is standing strong_

_There wasn't a cloud in sight, but you made a kite_

_Then they tossed you back outside_

Now I write for Rissa and Trish, but I always run the lyrics by Lilly before I sing.

Before I can finish the last verse of my new lullabye, I hear a small voice calling from the next room.

"Ka! KA!"

I smile and set down my writing utensil and songbook. I pad quietly into the next room and see Rissa sitting in her little bed next to a slumbering Trish.

"Ka, uppy," she begs, holding her arms in the air. I pick up the child and bring her into the kitchen, singing a little song as I put her in the chair and cook breakfast.

Thank goodness Rissa was up first. Trish will not sit still for one minute!

I hear a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," I say, already knowing who it is. Lilly comes in grinning.

"How can you be happy on a day like this?" I tease.

"It's a nice day out today. Despite what today is, I will be positive," Lilly explains. "Hey, Rissa."

"Ha, Li," coos Rissa. Lilly sits in my armchair and I set down a plate in front of Rissa, who immediately starts eating with her fingers.

"What's this?" Lilly says curiously. "A new song?"

"No, Lilly, it's a tree," I joke. I wash my hands as she reads the words.

"This is really good, Kaja," she compliments.

"Thanks," I smile.

I hear little footsteps on the tile floor and see Trish standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

"Hi, Trish," I greet. "Are you hungry?"

The girl nods and rubs her dark eyes sleepily.

I spend the rest of the morning with Lilly trying to ready Rissa and Trish for the day and make myself somewhat presentable for the Reaping.

Lilly has already brought a dress for me from her own closet. It's a dark blue, sleeveless dress with a collar and ribbon in front.

By one o' clock, I'm rushing everyone (including a lollygagging Lilly who is going against her 'I'll be positive' speech she gave this morning).

Mrs. Leaves comes with us to keep an eye on Rissa and Trish for me.

As soon as we reach the Town Square, I say goodbye to my two girls and tell them I'll see them soon.

Lilly and I get our fingers pricked and find our way to our sections.

"See you soon, okay?" says Lilly, giving me a quick hug.

"Okay," I squeak, my voice giving out at the end.

I stand by myself in the sixteen-year-old girl section.

I can't leave Rissa, Trish, and Lilly. Rissa and Trish would live with Mrs. Leaves and Lilly might run away from home if my name is drawn.

I realize that if I'm chosen, Riss and Trish will never remember me because they are so little. I can't let that happen. They don't even know their parents. Just the thought of that brings tears to my eyes.

I blink away the tears and raise my head a bit higher. I have to be brave. Maybe I won't even be picked. There's enough of my age and gender it could be anyone.

The bells on the Justice Building ring out regally. It's time.

The mayor, a female, and a man with green skin come out of the Justice Building.

The mayor begins to talk, but I can't listen. I'm too mesmerized by the man with the green skin. His clothes are pretty ugly, but his hands make me shudder and grimace. They're webbed as if a frog's. Was this the style of the Capitol? To have some sort of special surgery or treatment for this strange and disgusting alteration?

I have no idea what's going on until the man is stuttering through an introduction and reading a name aloud.

"K-Katherine J-J-Jasmine Thomas."

My dark blue eyes widen in alarm.

_He said my name. What do I do? Do I go on the stage? What am I supposed to do?_

I go with my gut instinct and wobble my way up onstage.

My eyes burn, threatening to overflow. I wipe them quickly as not to show weakness. I know this from training. When throwing and defending with a dagger, weakness is your greatest opponent.

I search for Lilly's face in the crowd. Her grey eyes are pleading, troubled, and shining with tears.

I remove my eyes from her and spot Mrs. Leaves in the back with Rissa and Trish. She has one on each hip and her head is down. Rissa looks at the older woman with concern as Trish stares up at the clouds that have recently clouded the sky.

This gives me an idea for the last verse of my lullabye.

"Derek J-J-James M-Martins."

The crowd parts up front and I see a brown-haired boy whip around in shock. He stands there dumbstruck until one of his friends pushes him forward. The boy, Derek, stumbles on the steps and catches himself with the most dignity and proud demeanor I've ever seen in someone so young.

The Capitol man says goodbye and tells us to shake hands. I turn to face Derek. He's not much shorter than I am. His hand is clammy.

I remove mine quickly. This boy is now my enemy. In the arena, he will be trying to kill me.

The Peacekeepers shove me into a silver room in the Justice Building. The moment I'm in, I start to weep.

I sink to my knees, feeling the weight of my burden lying heavily on my shoulders.

After a few minutes of crying, I hear the door open and footsteps. I look up to see Mrs. Leaves, Lilly, and Rissa and Trish standing before me.

Rissa and Trish scurry over immediately and hug me tightly.

"I'm sorry, girls," I say through my sobs.

Rissa pats my face gently.

"Ok, Ka, ok," she says. I smile through my tears.

"Ka," Trish says simply.

"Kaja, sing them the song you wrote this morning," Lilly tells me gently. I nod and wipe away my tears. I take in a deep breath and sing the lyrics with the most feeling I've ever put into words.

_From the hills of the country, to the leaves on a tree_

_There's a sound that echoes so loud_

_And it grows and grows 'til the grass is blown_

_From the music that plays in the night_

_From the stars in the sky, to the cities bright,_

_There's a feeling I won't leave behind_

_And it grows and grows until you come home_

_And I'll never leave you alone_

_From the clouds so gray, where the children play_

_I'll be with you until my end_

_We will live in a house that's somewhere else_

_And we will escape from this cell_

"Amazing, Kaja," Mrs. Leaves says softly. "Simply amazing."

I stand and nod in thanks. Lilly tackles me in a hug as soon as I'm on my feet.

"Be careful," she says. "You can fight with a dagger. Don't kill unless you have to. For self-defence only, you hear me? Self defence."

"And you make sure Mrs. Leaves has everything she needs to take care of Rissa and Trish. Check up on them every day. I trust her, but I'm relying on you for this. Just promise me you'll stay with your parents, as much as you hate it," I say.

I hug Mrs. Leaves, tears still rolling down my face.

"Thank you so much," I tell her.

"It's no problem," she says. "I won't let them forget."

Those words hit me like bricks. _I won't let them forget..._

"Time to go," a Peacekeeper barks as the door bangs open. I scramble to hug Rissa and Trish one last time. Lilly and Mrs. Leaves have to pry them off me.

"Let go, girls," I say faintly.

"No! No!" yells Rissa.

"KA! KA!" screams Trish.

My heart breaks as the door slams shut behind them. I can hear the two girls crying and wailing all the way down the hall.

I sob and sit on the couch.

The only sound that reaches me is the breaking of things coming from across the hall. Derek is upset.

That makes two of us.

* * *

**Hope it wasn't TOO horrible! **

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**


	4. District 3 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 3 Reaping of the 1****st**** Annual Hunger Games!**

**I'm glad you have decided to continue reading because I am very excited about this next Reaping. I think it'll be the most exciting one we've had yet! **

**A big thanks to my mom and sisters for helping me with the story development, mentor possibilities, alliance possibilities, tribute parade costumes, and interview outfits (yes, I've already designed those!). **

**And thanks to LovingMarvel and VictorGirl14 for these lovely tributes! (:**

**Now on with the show—er—I mean, story.**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

* * *

DISTRICT 3

_Electra Mesa, 15 years, District 3_

I've always been a bit wild, yes that's very true, but I have a good reason for it: my father doesn't pay me any attention. And when he does, it's not the kind of attention a child should have. It's rough, cruel, and controlling. Don't ask why he doesn't, for even I am not certain why. But I do have a slight idea on why he decides to ignore me. I believe it's because I look too much like my mother. It could possibly be my caramel skin or dark spiraled hair, but I think it's my eyes. They're an olive/evergreen with specks of gold. They must be just like mum's or father wouldn't be so hesitant to look me in the eye.

Mum left when I was small. Father wouldn't elaborate so I asked around for a few years and got my answer from the neighbors across the street. She left because she was afraid. She was afraid of what would happen if she stayed and the small rebellion starting in our district would erupt. Unfortunately, it did and my mum left to fight in the Dark Days. Word reached us that she had died in the Capitol fighting for the rebels. My father locked himself in his work and never returned.

It's hard to stay optimistic when he's like that. He grunts his replies, scarcely speaks unless to tell me to go away, and is constantly supervising his workers.

However, today will be especially difficult to stay positive. Sure, the sky is the clearest and bluest it's been for days, but it's the event that will take place today that's so daunting. The Reaping for the Hunger Games is at two o' clock in the Town Square.

After the announcement, my heart literally stopped beating and I died a bit inside. Kids, ages 12 to 18, would have their names drawn out of bowls and be sent into an arena as tributes for a death showdown. I could scarcely believe my ears.

At the time, I was at my friend Avanti's house. She was just as stunned as I was. We vowed that if our names were chosen, we would kill only if someone attacked us first.

But as I lay there in the dead grass of my miniature yard, I realize that I wouldn't want to kill anyone, even for self-defence.

I sigh as the hot sun warms my skin.

_If only I could stay out here forever, _I think, feeling quite melancholy.

"Electra, who do you think will be picked?" asks Piper.

My eyes fly open and look sideways at my fair-haired friend.

"Hopefully none of us," I reply.

"The Fearless Four haven't been split up yet," Avanti comments.

"Key word: yet," Jell says glumly. I sit up to see her picking blades of brown grass out of the earth with such force that it worries me. Jell is the youngest of us all by one year and the thinnest. She lives in the poorer part of the district and has never eaten as well as the rest of us. To be honest, none of us have ever eaten well.

Our district's industry is technology, which is all the Peacekeepers care about. If those who assemble the technology meet the daily quota by the end of the workday, they are allowed to go. They don't care about our living conditions. I live in the nicer part of the district and my house is still more of a shack than a home. We have no air conditioning from the constant heat of the district. We're a southern district on the west side of what used to be the Rocky Mountains. There is a bit of desert in one part of the district, actually, and we must be wary of scorpions and snakes during the summer.

"Jell, it won't be you," I tell her.

"How do you know?" accuses Jell gently.

"Well, for one, there are a lot of fourteen year olds in the district," says Avanti.

"Besides," I say, "there are four other age groups with girls, too."

Jell nods half-heartedly. "If you say so."

"It's getting late," Piper says. "We should be getting home to get ready for the Reaping."

I bid my three best friends goodbye and lay back on the grass once more. I enjoy the outdoors way too much and don't want to go inside just yet.

I've just closed my eyes when a familiar but unwanted voice calls me.

"Electra! Electra Mesa! Get in here!"

I roll my eyes. "Coming!"

I stroll into the house, doing my best not to slam the screen door on my way in. I find my father in the small kitchen at the table. He's meddling with tools and what looks to be manufacturing chips.

"Yes, father?" I inquire politely.

"Go get ready for the Reaping," he orders, not caring to glance up at me from his work.

"It's only one in the afternoon," I protest.

"Just do what I say or there will be consequences," he commands carelessly.

"Fine," I growl. I stomp up to my room, this time making sure to slam the door behind me.

I'll never get him to pay attention to me!

I plop down into my brittle wooden chair behind my desk and start fiddling with a project.

My father is the manager of a branch of one of the main factories that creates various products for the Capitol. He looks over the section that invents and produces floating discs that are sent to District 6 to be put in hovercrafts.

I've been trying to recreate that sort of thing by creating a hovering dinner plate just for fun out of spare parts I've collected from things my father has brought home.

I hook up a few miniscule wires and an ancient computer chip with my electric pointer, but the convertor won't take to either the wire or the chip, frustrating me even more.

You could say I have a bit of a short temper, but only when it comes to my father. He's not a horrid man, really. I remember a time when I was very small. He'd sit me on his lap before bed and explain to me how a car engine worked or how old computers used to function. But that time is long-gone and forgotten by my father.

I irritatedly rifle through my drawers for the only nice set of clothes I own, a faded, white ruffled blouse and a soft green skirt.

I comb through my bushy hair, tugging on tangles of curls as if that will take away my anger. I sweep my hair into a ponytail and deem myself presentable.

I scramble down the rickety stairs, pass my father still at the table, and continue towards the back door.

"Go to the Reaping," he mutters.

"I'm going to Avanti's," I tell him. I then charge out the door before he can refuse.

I run out of my small yard, my sandals smacking the dirt and sending small dust storms furling up into the air.

I sprint all the way to Avanti's house.

As soon as my foot comes down on the first step of her front porch, Avanti walks out the door. She has a perplexed look on her tanned face.

"Why are you here? I thought you were going to walk with your dad," she says.

"Heck no," I reply. "I'd rather walk with you and your family."

"Fine with me," says Avanti's mom, her head popping out from behind a closed door.

"Thanks, Mrs. Static," I smile.

The rest of her family files out after Avanti. She has two brothers, Harmond and Lawrence, and a sister, Lorelei, and her mom and dad.

Nobody says much as we trudge to the Town Square. It's burning, much like most days here in District 3.

Before going into the square, Mrs. Static pulls us aside.

"Listen to me," she begins seriously, "you will all be fine. I promise. Your names have almost no chance of being drawn."

_Maybe not for Lorelei or Lawrence, _I think, looking over at Avanti's youngest siblings. _Lorelei's is only in there once and Lawrence's is only the bowl three times. Mine is just four, but to me, that's still a lot!_

She gives us each a hug, including me, who's not even a part of the family. I look quite out of place when they all have tan skin, brown hair, and hazel eyes.

Mrs. Static lets us go check in with the Peacekeepers. I don't make a sound as the needle pierces my finger.

I wait for Avanti and we find the female fifteen's section. Piper joins us and we spot Jell in the fourteen's group. She gives us a nervous glance and I grin back, trying to help her be optimistic despite the situation at hand.

_I'll be fine, _I tell myself, _and my name won't be drawn._

I breathe deeply for a few seconds, hoping this will settle the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

I can hear Piper hyperventilating next to me.

"Piper, you'll be fine," I say. Avanti, Piper, and I hold hands in a row, me in the middle, for assurance that we'll all be here when the Reaping is over.

All we can do is wait. We are all impatient, but the only thing we can do is pray it won't be our names drawn. I squint to see the stage, the sun sizzling high in the sky, sweat dripping down my neck.

Bells chime. It must be time for the Reaping to start.

A man, I belive the mayor, comes out of the newly constructed Justice Building, followed by an eccentric looking woman who takes a seat far back stage near the doors.

The mayor welcomes us to the Reaping and explains protocol when the tribute's names are drawn. He reads the Treaty of Treason and introduces our district escort, Cokey Xuthus.

The woman's face brightens with every step she takes towards the microphone. She snatches the equipment off its stand and literally shoves the mayor out of the way.

Every single District 3 citizen's jaws drop. Cokey, the escort, is from the Capitol. She has black and orange striped skin, tail, and ears. Her skirt is short and a bright, neon orange. Her shirt is the same shade, but in yellow, and her shoes are white and tall. Her eyes are like a cat's; yellow with thin slits for pupils.

I blink a few times for my eyes to adjust to the colors.

"He-llo, District 3!" she cheers excitedly. "Are you ready for the Hunger Games? I sure know I am! I can't wait to see these tributes _tear _each other apart; literally!" She laughs annoyingly. I frown at her enthusiasm. Usually, I am the peppy one, but this is ridiculous!

"Well, may the odds be _ever _in your favor for our girl tribute! Let's find out who this lucky, lucky female will be!"

Without removing her eyes from the crowd, she struts over to the girl's glass bowl filled to the brim with slips of paper and digs around for a moment.

Paper in hand, she walks back over to the middle of the stage.

"And the girl with the honor of representing District 3 as a Hunger Games tribute is..." She pauses, making me almost explode with impatience. "Lorelei Static!"

_Good, not-OH. MY. V8 ENGINE!_

I inhale sharply as I realize the girl heading up to the stage is Avanti's twelve-year-old sister.

My eyes grow wide with disbelief. Avanti's grasp tightens.

I have to do something. Lorelei can't die this way! What do I do?

"No, Lorelei!" I burst out. "I volunteer as tribute!"

I let go of Avanti and Piper's hands and step forward confidently.

"I volunteer," I repeat loudly. The girls around me part, gasping and whispering fervently.

"Ooh, how invigorating!" says Cokey enthusiastically. Then she turns to speak to the mayor, microphone held to the ground.

I rush over to Lorelei. I lean down her level, hands on her shoulders.

"Go back to your section, Lorelei," I tell her firmly.

"But Electra-"

"No, just go. I'll be fine," I say. The girl nods, eyes still huge. She shuffles back to her section as Cokey motions for me to come up onto the stage.

"Wow! The first volunteer ever in Hunger Games history! How do you feel?" gushes Cokey, holding the microphone to my mouth as if conducting an interview.

"Spectacular," I say sarcastically.

"Just fab!" cheers the Capitol resident. "What is your name and age?"

"Electra Mesa, 15."

"And why did you volunteer for that little creature up in the front?"

"She's my friend's sister."

"Now THAT is true friendship, everyone!" Cokey shoves me further backstage.

I rub my arm as she retrieves the boy's name.

"Maka Kaas!" She looks more closely at the name on the paper. "Okay, who was the idiot that sorted these names? I think this is a girl!"

"I'm pretty sure I'm a guy," calls a voice from the crowd.

Boys part in a section just below the fifteen-year-olds. He must be fourteen.

The lone boy covers his mouth for a moment as if surprised at what he's just said.

"Come on up, Maka I'm-a-boy-not-a-girl Kaas!" Cokey says happily. Does she feed off our depression or something? She is waaaay to enthusiastic.

Maka nervously mounts the stage.

"Alright, let's give a big round of applause for our District 3 tributes!" Cokey tells the district.

As the district gives us a weak applause, Cokey hisses at us from over her shoulder. "Shake hands, you pathetic children!"

We quickly do as she says, Maka's thin hand taking my own firmly. I make eye contact for a moment, then stare down at my shoes.

My hands shake and it's hard to breathe.

A group of Peacekeepers deposit me in a light orange room.

I receive two visits; one from the Statics, incluidng Avanti, and Piper and Jell. The Statics swarm around me in a group hug, Lorelei the only one who thanks me with her words. Piper and Jell tell me to come back and that they'll be cheering for me.

My father doesn't come. I almost expect him to, but he doesn't.

As I sit here in the sunset orange room, I realize that there's a bright side to winning these Games: Avanti, her whole family, Piper, and Jell are here when I get back. I can make father finally pay attention to me. Living.

* * *

_Maka Kaas, 14 years, District 3_

"Maka, why are you so sad?"

I smile over at my little sister fondly.

"It's Reaping day, Elle," I tell her.

"But why are you sad?"

"I just am."

"That doesn't answer my question," she pouts.

We walk down the short hallway, bare feet padding into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Good morning," greets mom cheerily.

The sun is already burning brightly through the windows of our kitchen.

"See? Mommy isn't sad," Elle says, running to the table.

I move my shaggy black hair out of my greenish-brown eyes and sit next to Elle.

"So what's for breakfast?" asks my sister.

"Just the usual," laughs mom.

"Again?" Elle complains.

"We can't get much else," I explain. "We don't have the money to buy nice food."

"Like Apple does?" she asks.

"Like Apple," I confirm, referring to my sister's best friend.

She puts a hand on my arm, on the scars that changed my life. "Can we get more money?"

"How about we eat breakfast?" suggests mom, bringing our food to the table.

I smile and nod at Elle. She sees me nodding and follows my example.

Elle is the dearest person in the world to me, besides my mother. Dad died when I was seven. He got very sick the year before. The apothecary workers called it pnuemonia. He hacked and coughed right up until his death. It cast a dark shadow on my world and mom's. Despite dad's passing, she stayed cheerful and determined to keep us alive. She still works in the assembly lines, scanning hovering discs for defects.

Elle was born shortly after dad's death. At first, I was hesitant to interact with her, but she ended up being the one who made me laugh again. I can't imagine life without her.

Then three years ago, when I was just eleven, the house caught fire. It started in me and Elle's room, right near her little bed. She was still sleeping.

Mom and I ran out, but I realized that Elle was still sleeping _inside the house. _The neighbors had come to assist to put out the fire, and told me that she was gone. But I couldn't let her be gone, not like dad. So I went in. I rushed into the bedroom and picked her up, still slumbering quietly. A few sparks flew out from a falling beam and hit me in the arm, but I kept running. I brought Elle out to mom before I realized that I was in pain. I collapsed on the ground next to my sister and mother.

I've still got scars this very day. They remind me never to leave someone behind, even if they are a friend or foe.

Just as we're finishing up breakfast, we hear a knock at the door. Mother goes to answer it.

"Julianne Kaas?" says a male voice.

"Yes, that's me," replies my mother softly.

"Your monthly payment," I hear the man say.

"Thank you," says mom. Then the door clicks shut.

"Was that a Peacekeeper?" probes Elle when mom walks into the kitchen.

"Yes, he was giving my money for working," mom responds, taking three tiles out of the corner of the kitchen floor. She pulls out a file and sticks the papers into a slot, then shoves it back into the hole.

"What's that, mommy?" Elle quizzes, standing on her chair to see over the edge of the counter.

"Sit down, sis," I say, tugging gently on the bottom of my sister's nightgown.

She plops back down as mom places the tiles back in their normal spots.

"Oh, it's nothing," mom says breezily, waving her hand as if the money doesn't matter.

I smile. I know it matters.

Later in the day, Elle helps me pick out my clothes for the Reaping.

"'Cause you know clothes are important," Elle says matter-of-factly, striding into our room on her short, skinny legs.

"Of course," I pretend to agree. "That's what Apple told you, right?"

"Right," nods Elle. She looks over at my chest of drawers and opens the top one, barely able to see its contents. "You don't have anything pretty."

"I'm a boy," I tell her. "I don't wear pretty stuff."

"I do."

"You're a girl."

"And I wear pretty stuff."

"Sometimes people think I'm a girl," I say.

"You don't look like a girl," giggles Elle.

"No, but sometimes when I have a new teacher at school, they'll call my name and think I'm a girl because Maka ends in an A."

"That's just silly!" she laughs. She digs frantically through my drawers. "How about this shirt?"

Elle holds up a cotton striped tan shirt. It's the only nice shirt I own.

"Sure. And how about the dark brown pants in the bottom drawer?" I say.

"Is brown the only color you have?" she asks. I nod. "Sure then."

"Now could you go out so I could change?" I request gently.

"Okay."

Elle skips merrily out of the bedroom.

I change into my Reaping clothes and wonder whose name will be called today for tributes. I seriously hope it won't be mine.

I stand come out of my room to see Elle sitting in the hallway outside the door.

"You look handsome, Maka," she compliments.

"Thanks, Ellie," I say, calling my sister by her nickname.

Soon enough, mother tells us it's time to go to the Town Square for the Reaping. Elle gives me a big hug before we leave the house.

"Please don't leave us to be on TV," Elle pleads.

"Don't you worry," I tell her. "I won't."

* * *

The bells ring out. They must be from the Justice Building that was put together solely for the purpose of the Hunger Games. It is supposed to remind us that the ulitmate authority in District 3, the other districts, and the entire country of Panem is the president. President Snow. A man whom I've come to hate.

Mayor Caractucus steps out of the Justice Building followed by an orange and black striped monster. I wonder if that person is from the Captiol. You hear rumors from the rebel war veterans about how people alter themselves to look like animals or a tree, or something else completely stupid. I can only imagine what these tributes will see.

"Good afternoon, District 3, and welcome to the Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games," Mayor Caractucus salutes. "Now when the tribute's names are called, they must proceed to this stage where volunteers will be asked for. If there are none, then we will continue on with the Reaping. Family and friends will be allowed to say farewell before the tributes board the train for the Capitol. Now I will read the Treaty of Treason written by President Snow himself."

I listen closely to the words he speaks. They are of unhappy tidings and horrid rules.

"Now I am pleased to introduce to you a very special guest that will serve as the district escort for this year's tributes. Please join me in greeting Cokey Xuthus!" says the mayor.

The Capitol lady comes bounding eagerly to the front of the stage and snags the microphone.

"He-llo, District 3! Are you ready for the Hunger Games? I sure know I am! I can't wait to see these tributes tear each other apart; literally!" she snickers and snorts into the microphone.

I am appalled at what this woman has just said. She will _enjoy _seeing people kill each other? That disgusts me.

She takes the girl's name and reads it aloud. I don't really care who gets picked. I know it sounds heartless, but I know no girl in District 3 very well and am just anxious to hear the boy's name read.

"Lorelei Static."

No one I've ever heard of. A small twelve-year-old girl starts up to the stage. My heart falls a bit as I see her. She's the youngest age and her name was probably only in the glass fishbowl once.

"No, Lorelei! I volunteer as tribute!"

A voice coming from a section one above mine startles me. A crowd of girls separates near the back to reveal a girl with curly hair and caramel skin.

"I volunteer."

Her voice is self-assured and valiant.

Cokey is practically drooling with pleasure. The older girl goes over to the smaller one and speaks to her. The younger one goes back to her section and the older one mounts the stage. We discover her name is Electra Mesa. She's fifteen and she volunteered for her friend's sister. I respect her for sacrificing herself.

"Now let's choose the name of our male tribute, shall we?" Cokey laughs lightly.

She strides over to the bowl and moves all the names around until she's satisfied with the name she's drawn.

Then she goes back to the middle of the stage, microphone in hand.

I cross my fingers, an old gesture my dad used to do when he was nervous or hoping what he wanted would happen.

_Not me, please not me, not me, not me! _I think. _I don't want to die. I have Elle and mom I have to be with with!_

"Maka Kaas."

Oh no.

"Okay, who was the idiot that sorted these names? I think this is a girl!" Cokey says, suddenly irritated.

_Not again, _I think. I slap a hand to my forehead.

"I'm pretty sure I'm a guy," I say loudly.

Everyone around me moves away. I quickly put a hand to my mouth. Could Cokey really hear me up onstage?

"Come on up, Maka I'm-a-boy-not-a-girl Kaas!" she chirps animatedly.

I trudge out of my section and up to the stage. I take my place next to Electra, my palms sweating and insides churning with fear.

I scan the crowd for my mom.

I find her in the back, head in her hands, Elle pulling at her skirt in confusion and pointing to me up onstage.

I blink back a few tears and shake my head once to clear my jumbled mind.

Cokey dismisses the crowd and tells me and Electra to shake hands.

I need this girl as an ally. I'm not sure if I can go through the Games by myself.

I take her hand firmly, as if telling her I want to be friends.

I look straight into her dark, emerald and gold eyes, but she averts them to her shoes.

The Peacekeepers take us into the Justice Building, Cokey right on our heels.

"Just throw them into a flipping room already. Come on, we don't have all day!" she barks at a Peacekeeper. Those with Electra's arms in their grasp ignore her and we continue down the hall.

Electra is pushed into one room and I'm put into the one next to hers.

"Can we just place them on the train already? Seriously, this is not necessary," grumbles Cokey as she shoves me into the room and slams the door.

The weight of this predicament comes crashing in on my head all at once. I collapse into a light orange armchair. I trace the pattern on the fabric lightly with my finger.

If only life was like that. Light and cool with nothing to worry about except...well, except nothing. I wish we didn't have to worry about anything.

"Is he in there, mommy?" a voice says outside the door.

"Yes, dear," I hear a woman's reply. It's Elle and mom.

The door opens and they both enter. Elle starts crying as soon as she's in my arms.

"Will you come back?" she asks between sobs. "I don't want you to go!"

A few tears leak out my own eyes as I hold my favorite person in Panem close.

"I'll be back," I reply.

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"Cross your heart, hope not to die?"

"Cross my heart, hope not to die."

Elle clings to me, even when I'm hugging mom. She lets me go and stares me square in the eye, her hands gripped to my shoulders.

"Now you listen to me, young man," she says firmly. "You will learn survival skills only. I don't want you to kill anyone. I've seen you run. You're fast. Use that and promise me not to kill anyone. I don't want my only son to be known as a murderer, you hear me?"

"I hear you," I say.

"Good," she says.

I hug both Elle and mom tightly for a few minutes.

"Time's up. Let's go," says a Peacekeeper as the door opens.

Mom lets go. "Stay safe."

"I will, I promise," I say, tears streaming down her face and mine. I look down at the tiny arms fastened around my waist.

"Let go, Elle."

She shakes her head. "No."

"Elle, you have to let go," mom says, trying to pry my sister's hands off me.

"No," she repeats.

"I said it's time to go," the Peacekeeper barks.

"Elle, you've got to let go or the Peacekeeper will make you," I say, panicking a bit as the Peacekeeper strides over.

"Do you need me to throw you out? I said it's time to go!" he orders.

"I'm sorry, sir, but my daughter is not wanting to leave. One second, sir," my mom says. "Elle, sweetie, it's time to let Maka go. Let go."

"I won't let go of my brother!" she refuses.

I tell her to let go again. My heart is breaking again. She has to go. Now.

"That's it," the Peacekeeper snaps. He pulls Elle off of me roughly and throws her into my mother. "Get out! Now!"

He shoves my mother out of the room.

"Hey! Get your hands off of them!" I shout angrily.

The Peacekeeper slams the door in my face. I can hear Elle screaming.

"Let my brother go! Maka! MAKA!"

Cross my heart, hope not to die.

* * *

**It was a lot longer than I expected, but I hope you all enjoyed it! **

**Thanks for the support guys, it's pretty awesome that you all want more of this SYOT. Remember, one reivew=new chapter! **

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**


	5. District 4 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 4 Reaping of the 1****st**** Annual Hunger Games!**

**Sorry I haven't updated in a couple of weeks. I've had school and my other fanfics that needed to be updated! Enjoy the chapter!**

**So if you're wondering how I've figured out the climates of the districts, look up the 'districts of Panem map' on Google, and use the one from the Hunger Games Adventures from Facebook. I've found it's the most accurate.**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim any copyrights to Suzanne Collins' **_**The Hunger Games **_**trilogy.**

* * *

DISTRICT 4

_Liam Creek, 15 years, District 4_

I cut through the glassy, smooth, turquoise waves with speed and ease. My eyes sting slightly from the clear salty water, but I don't care. The ocean is where I belong.

I dive deeper, scattering a few colorful fish that have gathered near a sandy plateau. I smile to myself as I see a whale in the distance. It's a rare sight to see them so close to the fishing grounds.

I realize I'm running out of air and quickly resurface next to my brother Truman's boat.

"Liam, come on! We're going to be late for the Reaping!" he yells down at me.

"Alright," I sigh, "but you know I'd much rather be swimming than stuck in a crowd of sweaty teenagers."

I climb the ladder on the back of the fishing vessel and grab a towel.

"You are obsessed," Truman observes as I dry my hair.

"Oh yes," I joke, "drying my hair is one of my favorite hobbies. Sometimes I wet my hair over and over again just for the pleasure of taking a towel to my head."

"Shut it, you know I meant with swimming," Truman groans frustratedly.

"That too," I say. "How can you not be? You live on a boat."

"I don't have a lot of time for swimming. I have a job. Besides, you _also _live on a boat," my brother points out.

"So?" I counter as I sit on the side of the boat. "Most of the time mom has us docked at the Main Square docks. It's not like the Peacekeepers are stopping me from swimming. Even _they _try to have some fun once in a while…if they can swim."

"Whatever," says Truman. "Let's just get out of here."

_But I don't want to get out of here, _I think. _I want to _stay _here! _

He starts up the small vessel and drives it away from the spot. I stand swaying with the waves as the salty air blows me away.

As soon as we're docked next to the family boat, I immediately jump from Truman's boat onto the deck.

"Hey, Liam," calls my sister Sandy.

"Hi, Sands," I say, ruffling her blonde hair as I stride into me and my brother Trident's cabin. He's already in there, getting ready for the Reaping.

"Back already, Liam?" he quizzes me, digging through his meager pile of clothes.

"I would've swum longer if Truman hadn't made me come back. He thought we'd be late for the Reaping," I explain.

"He's twenty now," says Trident. "It's not like his name is going to be picked out of the bowls."

"Yeah, but Tru is very OCD about punctuality," I say. "If somebody was going to be whipped, he'd be at the Town Square an hour before just because the Peacekeepers insist we watch."

Trident chuckles, then changes the subject. "So who do you think will be shipped off to the Capitol?"

"Anybody but me, that's for sure," I say, scowling at the thought of the Hunger Games.

The announcement made by President Snow six months ago actually didn't surprise me. I knew it was only a matter of time before the government did something evil to us districts. Of course, I didn't think they'd take it this far, but I'm still not really surprised.

These days, you hear a lot about the damage the districts did to the Capitol. The Capitol Council was quickly elected about a year ago and was told to choose a new leader. The chose a man named Snow. From what the rebel veterans have told me, he was the military commander during the Dark Days and knows only punishment and cruelty. They say it's in his blood. I know it's him that came up with the idea. There's not a trace of doubt in my mind.

I finish getting dressed and look out the porthole. Just sky and sea on this side of the boat. If only it was like that at the other side.

Trident and I stride out onto the deck to observe the Town Square. There are large screens that have been erected on the newly set up stage. I watch anxiously as Peacekeepers finish the job by placing two enormous glass bowls on either side of the stage. They line up with buckets and buckets of paper and, name by name, fill the bowls to the brim.

"Four of those names are yours," Trident says in a sing-song voice.

"Seven of them are yours," I sing back.

"Lucky number seven," my brother tells me confidently.

"Not exactly," I say. "You have more of a chance of getting your name drawn."

"So? It's a big district," Trident retorts. "It could be anyone."

I nod solemnly as I see the head Peacekeeper observing the finished work in the Square.

"What? No mocking of me getting picked or stumbling up the steps once my name is called?" says Trident.

"Today is not a day for jokes," I reply gravely. Trident just laughs.

"Yes, all wise and powerful Master Liam!" he mocks, taking a cheesy bow. "Where is your friend and colleague, the incredible Master Calvin?"

I smile, not being able to resist joking around. "He is practicing the art of spear fishing, young grasshopper."

"Very good, Master," Trident bows again, "shall I, too, practice this magical art?"

"No, no," I joke, "you are not ready to learn this valuable skill. It takes great patience and aim. Not only that, but you'll most likely mistake your foot for a fish."

My brother looks slightly offended. "Hey, I would not!"

"Yes you would," I insist, dropping the funny voice. "Remember that time we were at that beach up north and you thought you found a bright orange dead fish? And it turned out to be a rubber glove?"

I laugh harder as Trident's face turns as pink as coral. "It looked like a fish!"

"Yeah, sure it did! A fish with five fins!"

"It's better than the time I convinced you a floating mop end was a killer jellyfish!"

"Hey, cut me some slack! I was five," I defend.

"When I found that glove, I was young, too," Trident says. "I didn't know any better."

"You were sixteen," I snort.

"Shut it, Liam," he grumbles. "We should probably go over to the Square. People are really starting to pile in."

I nod. "Alright, I'll go tell Sandy. Hey, where's mom?"

"She had to take the day shift out at the Gutter," he tells me, grimacing.

"It just had to be today," I say.

The Gutter is the place where all of the most high-quality fish are sent to be prepared for the Captiol. Every adult over the age of 21 to 55 must work one day each week, but nobody knows what day they'll be working. Peacekeepers go door to door telling those who have to work to be ready soon for the Gutter.

The workers gut the fish and take out any unwanted bones or scales. The citizens of District 4 are required to take home the fish heads for food or to grind into chum for the fishermen. Mom usually makes some sort of stew out of the heads since we can't afford much else. We're some of the poorest people in the District. Of course, people who regulate market and Capitol sales don't have to go the Gutter to work because they're too 'important' and 'valued by the community.'

I tell Sandy that it's time for the Doomsday to commence and we all jump off the boat. We land on the deck and walk into the Main Town Square. Many families have traveled a long distance just to come to the Reaping. It's required.

District 4 is one of the biggest districts in Panem…at least, that's what the veteran rebel soldiers tell us. I know it's large, but I've never been around it very much, except when we get orders to fish off of the Northern coasts to help out the people up there.

I line up behind Trident and Sandy and watch as they both have their finger pricked and their blood scanned by a Peacekeeper. I have the same done to me. I grit my teeth as the needle breaks my skin.

I spot Trident entering the eighteen's section and Sandy going into the thirteen's.

"Liam!" I hear a voice call. I whip around to see Calvin Odair, my best friend, jogging up to me with a dripping red finger. He must've just come through the check-in.

"Hey, Cal," I greet.

"What's up?" he says.

"The sky. So how do you feel about this whole Hunger Games business?" I question as we enter the fifteen's section.

"I don't know," he says. We settle into a spot directly in the middle of the crowd of guys. "It's sort of exciting really. Don't you think it'd be fun to have your name read? Anyone who was picked would be famous! Think of all the girls we would get."

He smacks my muscled arm as if to say _don't you agree?_

I frown at my friend. "I don't know, Cal. Killing other kids for money and girls? Don't you think that's a bit…barbaric?"

"Okay, maybe a little. But for the fame? I'd do it if I had to," he replies.

My frown deepens at his eagerness. What is up with him today? I've never seen Calvin this way. Maybe he's just nervous and is saying things he doesn't mean…

I guess I would kill if I had to. But even THAT makes me feel sick.

"You okay, bro? You look a little green," Cal wonders.

I look around for an excuse and find one in the person up onstage. "I'm fine. I'm just wondering why that lady up on the stage is dressed so strangely. The colors are so bright, they are kind of making me nauseous.

"Whoa, you're right," exclaims Calvin. "What was she thinking?"

"Is that even a lady?" I say distractedly, "Hm, that's funny; I thought it was a living pile of colorful puke."

I look over my shoulder at the ocean. I want to swim so badly right now. It helps me clear my mind. And right now, my thoughts are so jumbled, I'll need to swim for at least two hours.

"Are you even looking at her? She's incredible!" says Calvin.

"What?" I say, whirling back around. "Dang!"

I blink a few times for my eyes to adjust to the sparkling. The woman onstage is covered in gems. Every inch of her body glitters. They catch the sunlight in the colors of red, green, blue, pink, purple, silver, and yellow. Her hair is just gold with sparkles and she wears a short, black feathery dress and black shoes with lots of straps.

My eyes hurt from the glare.

"She's hot!" Calvin says in awe as she twirls her hair around her finger nervously.

I scowl and glance confusedly at my friend. How is this woman _hot? _She's from the Capitol, obviously, and how do we know she won't enjoy watching our district tributes die?

"Dude, you can hardly see her face! To me, that's just wrong," I say.

"Whatever, Liam," Calvin replies.

I shake my head in disbelief as the bells from the new Justice Building ring out to signal the beginning of the Reaping.

_Unbelievable, Cal…just unbelievable…_

The mayor of District 4 strides up to the front of the stage and speaks lightly into the microphone. He's peppy and arrogant as he explains how the Reaping will proceed. "And now, please join me in welcoming Diamond Calixto, District Four's Capitol escort!"

The boy's side gives her a few hoots and whistles as she trots up to the microphone. I clap grudgingly as Calvin cheers.

_What is WRONG with him today? _I think.

"Hi, District 4! It's an honor to represent you all in the first annual Hunger Games! I have to admit, I'm nervous to be up here in front of all you people by myself, so let's get the girl tribute up here quickly, alright?"

I watch as she click-clacks over the bowl on her left.

To be honest, I'm really not all that worried about the Reaping. I mean, sure, I definitely do NOT want my name to be drawn, but there's very little chance that it will happen. We've been told our district is the biggest of all, so that means there are more people eligible. I have no doubt that it will not be me.

"And remember may the odds be ever in your favor. And the girl tribute is...Aki Chung-Feng," Diamond announces. A girl with long black hair and blue eyes takes the stage trembling. I feel bad for her. Her eyes are as large as an ocean sunfish is wide. Poor girl.

"It's great to have you up here, Aki," Diamond says. "Do how old are you?"

Aki fidgets for a moment, then stands up straighter and speaks clearly into the microphone. "Sixteen."

"Oh, yay! Now it's time to select the name of our boy tribute!" the gem-encrusted Capitol woman says, lacking a bit of excitement.

My fists clench as Calvin perks up. And to think, I called him my best friend.

"Liam Creek."

Me? Out of all the boys in District 4, it had to be me? _My name?_

I don't remember what I'm supposed to do in this moment of shock. Calvin looks at me with congratulations and jealousy as I walk forward.

I mount the stage, my mind about to literally explode with questions. Not to mention I feel as if a living piece of coral. I'm stiff and mechanical, like a fish grinder they use at the Gutter. All those eyes on me are terrifying, as if they'll all pounce on me as a shark does its prey.

Diamond gently grabs my wrist and pulls me to the center of the stage. She puts a hand on my shoulder reassuringly, then leans down slightly to my level (I AM 5 ft 5 inches).

"So how old are you, Liam?"

"Just fifteen," I reply, trying to keep a straight face.

"Please give it up for our District 4 tributes!" cheers Diamond. She turns to me and Aki. "Now it's time for you both to shake hands."

We do as she says. Aki is only a few inches shorter than I am. She looks me straight in the eye and I do the same to her. My handshake is firm and nice, trying to tell her that she can trust me.

Then a group of Peacekeepers and the escort lead us into the Justice Building.

I am put in an all blue room that reminds me of the ocean I wish I was swimming in this very moment. Dried out seastars and seashells litter the room as decorations. It almost makes me cry.

Trident, Sandy, and Truman are my first visitors. They hug me and tell me that I shouldn't be afraid. Sandy gives me a small, pure white seashell we found on the beach together when she was five. I tell her I'll think of her whenever I hold it.

Truman tells me that mom has been notified of the verdict, but isn't allowed to come say goodbye. This almost sends me over the edge.

After dad drowned in the fishing accident five years ago, mom has never been the same. Losing me would make her go crazy. The Peacekeepers would send her to the infirmary and would keep her locked up. I can't let that happen.

Then Trident informs me about strategies. He says he knows I'll survive. He tells me to find an ally (if allowed) that has the same goal as I do: surviving.

Peacekeepers yank them from the room before Trident can say any more.

I plop down into a rickety wooden rocking chair and close my eyes.

_How am I going to do this? I know I'm strong and smart. I just have to learn about other plants and medical care before I go into the arena. I have an advantage on some others. Heck, for all I know, everyone could be geniuses! _

"Liam?"

The door opens and I'm suddenly alert as Calvin walks in.

"Hey, Cal," I greet, slightly irritated he has the nerve to come see me after he ranted about being eager to participate in the Games.

"Why'd you stand? You could've stayed seated," Calvin says in a know-it-all voice.

"I didn't want to look like an old grandma," I say nonchalantly, "Besides, you came in so I just thought I'd stand."

"Uh huh," Calvin says, nonconvinced for some unknown and ridiculous reason. "Look, Liam, I'll admit, I'm pretty jealous of you. You're about to leave to go to the Capitol with a gorgeous Asian girl and a beautiful Capitol escort! If you win, you'll be so famous!"

"What if I don't want to win?" I counter. How could he suggest such things? He knows I don't want to go. He's trying to get under my skin, like sand creeps into swim trunks and annoys the heck out of you.

"That's just it," he replies. "I don't think you can win."

This statement shocks me and I'm very taken aback. The person who once knew me inside and out thinks I'll die?

"Get out, Cal," I demand.

"What? No, Liam, you don't understand. I—"

"Get. Out."

He scowls and storms out of the room.

Well, goodbye to you, too, you moron.

* * *

_Aki Chung-Feng, 16 years, District 4_

If only my mother were here. She'd know what to do. She'd stride right over to my closet, pick out the perfect dress, and tell me, "Here, Aki, this is the one." But mother isn't here. She's gone. And I'm stuck in this house with just my cousin and papa for company.

I don't hate my father, but all he's worried about is money and marrying me off to a wealthy family so our riches grow. There aren't many rich families here in District 4. At least, not down here in the Southern Region.

But I don't want to marry a rich boy. I already have a boyfriend. Heathcliffe Sarutobi is his name and he is as poor as the wet sand on the beach. I don't care that he's not rich. He and I, we're perfect for each other.

My best friend is my cousin Showtarou Shinohara. He lives with us since my aunt and uncle died during the Dark Days. His mother was my mother's sister. Showtarou is only three days older than I am.

And today is my birthday. I'm turning sixteen. Papa tried to throw me a special party, but the Peacekeeper's denied his request. To be quite frank, I'm glad I'm not having a party. Today is the Reaping and I do NOT want to have a depressing party.

The Reaping is a brand new event for all the districts of Panem. Two teen's names will be drawn and sent to the Capitol for the Hunger Games. These Games are where the teens (or 'tributes' as the government insists on calling them) will be trying to kill other tributes in an arena. Disgusting and un-ladylike if you ask me. I can't imagine myself killing somebody! It's horrendous!

I'd much rather be shopping or planning outfits. Ooh, or trying out new makeup papa has sent me from the Capitol!

But now back to my Reaping outfit. Appearances are imperative when meeting someone new or...*gulp*...standing in front of an entire district after your name has been read...

I hear a quiet knock on on my door.

"Come in," I call, still rifling through my stingy wardrobe. Shopping soon? I think yes!

Papa walks in and I resist the urge to shoo him out. "Good morning, Aki!"

"Hello, papa," I reply politely. "Good morning to you, too."

"Happy sixteenth, my little seastar!" he says, holding out a present for me. I gasp as I see the ocean turquoise dress with a brown belt.

"Oh, papa, it's lovely," I say, fingering the soft material. Maybe he's not so obsessed with getting me married into a wealthy family after all.

"Don't thank me," papa replies, "I got it specially made in District 8, just for you! It cost a pretty penny, but it was completely worth it if you catch the eye of a rich young suitor!"

My face falls slightly. _Never mind, _I think. _Even on my birthday, he's still taken over by money._

"Papa, you know I have a boyfriend,"I tell him gently. His cheerful face hardens into a sneer.

"You mean that poor fisherman's son you insist on seeing?"

"If you mean Heathcliffe, then yes. Papa, Cliffe is perfectly—"

"I don't like him and I don't approve of your relationship with him," Papa cuts me off. Then he exits the room without another word.

"Just don't think about it, Aki," I tell myself. "You're a pacifist, remember? Stay calm. Don't re-slam the door. Remember, violence just leads to sadness."

And if you look at the history of Panem, violence really does lead to sadness. The Dark Days are a perfect example. I HATE war and death, which is why I absolutely despise the idea of the Hunger Games. I'd much rather be shopping than killing other teenagers.

I slip on the dress and brown gladiator sandals and put my hair up in my usual ponytail.

I slowly make my way down the stairs and into the living room. I peek around the corner of the hallway and smile to myself. No one. I rush out the front door and quietly close it behind me.

I hurry away from the house and down a few streets to the beach. Cliffe and I are meeting before the Reaping in our favorite spot, the place where two palm trees meet. It's the perfect spot to watch a sunrise or sunset.

"Aki!" Cliffe calls as I start down the soft-sanded slope.

"Hey," I call back. I rush down the rest of the hill and plunge into his arms. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

"It's only been a week," he chuckles.

"I know," I reply, happy to have my boyfriend back. We pull away and he takes my hand.

"Happy birthday," he says.

"Thanks," I say.

"So how've you been?"

I grit my teeth. "Pretty good." Wow, am I a horrible liar.

"Mm hm, sure you are," says Cliffe sarcastically, "It's your dad, isn't it?"

I nod frustratedly. "Ever since I turned twelve, he's talked about me marrying into a wealthy family and this week he's been even more annoying! It's seems he can't string two sentences together without bringing it up. I just—ugh, my brain is about to explode!"

"Calm down, Aki," he says softly. "He can't _make _you marry someone."

"But that's just it!" I cry. "He _can! _He's my _father! _If I don't do everything he says, I will seriously _die!"_

"Speaking of dying, are you ready for the Reaping?" Cliffe changes the subject.

I roll my eyes at my boyfriend good-naturedly. "Yeah, sure. It just HAD to be on my birthday."

"That reminds me," says Cliffe, reaching into his pocket. "I made this for you."

He places the gift gently into my free hand. It's a beautiful blue and pink seashell on a thin strand of rope.

My eyes light up and my mood instantly lightens. How sweet is he?

"Your dad can probably get you something better, but—"

"No," I say, "it's absolutely flawless. I love it!"

"Are you sure?" wonders Cliffe timidly.

"Of course? How could I not? Papa could buy five million silver and gold necklaces and none of them would make up for this one. Yours is special to me in a way no one else's present woud be," I assure him. "Besides, the blue compliments my dress."

"Aki," warns Cliffe.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly. I promised myself not to be that way around him. That's the school me, not the normal me. I don't usually talk about makeup and clothes around Cliffe because all I care about is us. At school, I don't know what else to talk about, so beauty, shopping, and money are all I think of.

"I think it's getting close to two," he says.

"Really?"

"Unfortunately."

"Dang it," I say. "Does my makeup look okay?"

"More than that. You look incredible," he says. He kisses me quickly and I blush.

"Thanks, Cliffe."

"Come one," he says. "Let's get this nightmare over with."

* * *

We're just passing by the marketplace when Showtarou barrels up beside me.

"Hey, Showtarou," I say.

"Aki, Uncle Chung is _not _happy with you," he says quickly.

"Why?" I say.

"Probably because she's with me," Cliffe concludes.

"Actually, yes, that's part of it, but there's another reason," Showtarou confirms. "You were supposed to come with Uncle to meet the Odairs. They have a son just a year younger than us."

I groan. "Why does papa have to do that sort of thing without asking me what I think first?" I turn to Cliffe. "He had meetings with two other families about arranged marriages while you were gone. One of the boys was really snotty and the other was nice, but we decided that we weren't meant to be at all. He was eighteen and engaged."

"He wasn't 'attractive?'" Showtarou asks sarcastically.

"Not to me," I retort. "Besides, I care more about you and Cliffe than I do some other guy's appearance."

We reach the Main Town Square, check in with the Peacekeepers, and go to our own sections.

Cliffe kisses me once more before we part.

Showtarou and I stand together on either sides of the rope.

"Here we go," he says as the bells chime.

The mayor (who's son is on the top of the list of papa's 'eligible husband' list for me) steps out onto the stage followed by a bedazzled Capitol woman.

I enjoy fashion, but not _that _type of style.

The mayor tells us how the Reaping works and reads the Treaty of Treason. Then he introduces the woman, Diamond Calixto, as our district escort. She babbles on about how honored she is to be here in District 4. Then she walks over to a bowl, draws a name, and walks back over to the microphone.

My palms grow sweaty and my breathing is shallow. I wait shakily as she reads out the name.

"And the girl tribute is..."

Just read the darn name!

"Aki Chung-Feng!"

I inhale sharply, causing me to cough briefly.

What? WHAT? MY NAME WAS DRAWN? How is father taking this? Where's Cliffe? Where's Showtarou? Oh, he's right next to me, eyes wide and urging me to take the stage.

I nod robotically and start through the crowd of girls.

"_Rich girl..."_

"_...shallow..."_

"_...DEAD..."_

"_Rude..."_

"_...weak..."_

I am NOT weak. I am strong.

* * *

I am in a room by myself. The room is a beautiful ocean blue. My eyes are blue. Cliffe has always said they look like the ocean after a storm. It's a grayish blue that doesn't stop seeing. But the blue might close soon. It might not survive this storm. Because this storm is the roughest one it has encountered. There will be other colors out in this ocean and only one will survive.

"I'm sorry, Aki," Showtarou says as we hug. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I reply, trying to be strong. "It can't be helped."

"I would've volunteered for you if I had been able to," he says.

"I know," I say. "But I wouldn't have wanted you to."

He leaves. I will miss my cousin.

Then papa enters. "My dear, dear, girl."

He hugs me hard. I have never gotten this long of a hug from him before. He must really be taking this worse than I am. And I'm the one who might die, not him.

"I love you, Aki," papa says.

"I love you, too," I say.

"Remember that you are not weak, whatever the others might say. I've taught you how to use weapons. During the Dark Days, remember? Do your best. Think of the riches!"

Same old papa.

Then he exits quietly, tears streaming from his eyes.

I stand on the blue-carpeted floor gazing at a space on the wall. I finger my seashell necklace at the same time. I sob silently. My makeup must look horrible.

"Aki, it's me," Cliffe says as he enters.

I perk up and stand there for a moment. We look into each other's eyes. Then we rush towards each other. I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

We don't say a word for several minutes. No words are needed. We know what we're saying to each other. _I love you._

Then he kisses me gently. It's the last time he will ever do that.

"Don't give in," he tells me once we're apart. "Don't."

"Why do goodbyes have to be so hard?" I sob, hugging him again.

"It's not goodbye," Cliffe replies. "It's hello."

"Get out, boy," a Peacekeeper snaps, throwing the door open. He grabs the back of Cliffe's collar and yanks him out of the room.

"AKI!" he shouts as the door shuts.

"CLIFFE!" I bellow through the closed door. I whisper his name as I slump down the door. "Cliffe."

I am NOT weak. I am strong.

* * *

**REVIEW! Hope you enjoyed! (:**


	6. District 5 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 5 Reaping of the 1****st**** Annual Hunger Games!**

**Fantastic to have you reading! Thanks for all who have reviewed, followed, and favorited so far. Remember, one review=a new chapter!**

**So at the beginning of last chapter, I forgot to thank snellthesnail and Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin for creating the District 4 characters. I had so much fun writing for these two!**

**Now I have to thank Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin once more for the male tribute and Ryah Ignis for the female! You guys are so good at creating interesting characters with riveting personalities! Thanks so much! (:**

**So without further ado, may the odds be ever in your favor. Ladies first. ;)**

**Sing Out!**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim copyrights to Suzanne Collins's **_**The Hunger Games **_**trilogy.**

DISTRICT 5

_Ash Trellis, 15 years, District 5_

My name is Ash. Ash. Like the ebony remains of the fire that is unwanted and thrown away. Like me. I was forgotten. I was unwanted. I was scattered into the wind and blown away to another world. My family abandoned me. They never cared.

I can't call Raphael and Daniella my parents because they never were. They favored my brother Jamie above me, even if I am his elder. Or _was _his elder. He's an older brother now. I've seen that they now have a little girl. She's about three now and her name is Terra. I hate her less than the others. I think that may be because she's never been told of her older sister who was thrown away by her own parents and wasn't around when that happened.

Anyways, they live in House 65 on the eastern wing of the district. Sometimes I walk by the house as they exit just to make them feel guilty about leaving me. Of course, I show no weakness, just resentment and cruelty. I turn my nose up at them as if _they _are the ashes, not me.

But I can't brag about my way of life. I live on the streets. I have no place I really call home except my cardboard boxes near my friend Rosie's house. The problem with living near her is that I'm reminded of everything that could have been if Raphael and Daniella had accepted me as their daughter. I could be cared for, fed (at least more than I am now), warm, dry…loved. But living with Rosie is not allowed. Peacekeepers come unexpectedly every few months to check on the residents and their living condition. Because of this, I just have my little box I sleep in. I wander the streets most days, hoping to find some sort of job.

Jobs are not chosen by the resident, they are chosen by Peacekeepers and training instructors. Each day we go to what we call Training Academy where we learn to operate different panels and machines used in the power plants on the northern wing of the district. I will not work in there until I'm eighteen. Just three years until I can live in my own house and provide for myself. It will be amazing to sleep in a bed again.

Living on the streets is not fun, especially with my disability. I have a twisted leg from an accident that took place when I was seven.

It was late in the afternoon and I was walking home from Rosie's house when two Peacekeeper cars hit me. We learned later that it wasn't Peacekeepers that were driving. Four teenagers had skipped Training Academy and had snuck into Peacekeeper headquarters and stole the cars used for emergencies.

The doctors tried to help me regain full use of my right leg, but it has remained permanently twisted to this very day. I hobble around the district to school, Academy, and back to my cardboard boxes near Rosie's house.

Rosie is the only person I trust. She's literally my only friend. I despise her parents. Heck, I despise all adults. They think they are so powerful and have such control. But they don't. Look at what happened to our district. Look at what happened to all of Panem. We basically turned into nothing but rubble after the Dark Days. The Peacekeepers and some workers are still reconstructing parts of the second power plant!

And along with new buildings came the best of all: the Justice Building. It represents the authority of President Snow. I enjoy his ideas of real power. The Hunger Games is the best invention since hovercrafts. A game to show the districts that we were completely wrong? Absolutely genius! I was against the Dark Days rebels. Of course, I think they're a bit too strict with us here, but we deserve it.

Today is the Reaping. Today is when I volunteer to be a tribute in the first Hunger Games. This is a chance for me to finally live in comfort! If I win—WHEN I win, I will be rich, famous, and live comfortably in the Victor's Village. The Peacekeepers are finished building it and I can't wait to come home and live in a nice, big house all by myself!

I sit up in my chilly cardboard boxes, thin blanket wrapped around my legs. My large beige overcoat I use as a blanket has slid to my waist and my arms are freezing. I grumpily adjust my lumpy pillow and coverings and lay back down to sleep more. This early on a day with no work? I'll sleep longer, thank you very much!

Then I sit up again. Today is the Reaping! YES! I smile and lay back down again, comforted by the fact that my journey to a real home begins today. Then I fall asleep once more.

The next time I wake, the sky is lighter in almost a gray glow. I can see it through the cracks in the boxes. I open the flap that serves as my door. It's drizzling out today, but even that can't dampen my spirits. I painfully change clothes. My leg makes it difficult to wear skirts of any kind (not to mention I have none) so I put on my nicest and cleanest pair of pants and a button down gray shirt.

I am elated! Once I volunteer, I'll be taken to the Capitol before the Games. That means I'll sleep in a real bed and eat real, honest to goodness food! Not the canned things I can steal from the shipments or what Rosie generously provides when she can.

I hold my very flat stomach as it growls. Another good factor that may give me an advantage. I have experience with hunger and know how to go a while without really eating anything.

I smile slyly and crawl out of my measly living space. What a day, what a day!

I limp over to Rosie's house and enter without knocking.

"Good morning, Ash," Rosie's mother says politely.

"Hi," I say gruffly. I hate it when they attempt to be nice to me! I have nothing I want to say to them, so why do they talk to me?!

I hobble into the kitchen where I assume Rosie is. "Hey, Rosie."

"Hey, Ash," she greets from the kitchen counter.

I sit in a rickety chair at the table in the middle of the room. "How are you?"

"Not good," she says as she turns around. Her brown eyes are dark with anxiety.

"Why? It's just Reaping day," I say, not understanding why she's so scared. "It's not like you're going to be picked."

"How do you know?" accuses Rosie, setting down a bowl of porridge and two spoons. "Here, we'll share."

I don't refuse her offer, so I pick up the spoon and begin to eat.

"I think I'm going to volunteer," I announce. Rosie nearly chokes on her mush.

"WHAT?" she gasps. I look at her perplexedly.

"It's just the Hunger Games, Rose. I could actually win," I say.

"Ash, no offence or anything, but look at yourself! You have a twisted leg! And besides, killing people?"

I snort. "I'd do it."

Rosie gasps. "Seriously?"

"If it means I get to live in a real house, have money, and be famous at the same time? I'm definitely volunteering. It's a small price to pay."

And it is if I win. I will be the victor. "Taking people's lives can't be any harder than taking a spider's," I explain. "Spiders are annoying, and these people are annoying. If you have to squish them to get them to stop being annoying, then you squish them."

"I don't think you should, Ash," Rosie disagrees. "You can't even handle a weapon. Who knows what they'll even have available anyways?"

"You're wrong, Rosie," I state forcefully. Then we're quiet as we finish the bowl of porridge.

I glance at the kitchen clock. It's one fifteen. My heart leaps for joy.

"C'mon, c'mon, let's go to the Reaping!" I say excitedly. I tug at her short pink sleeve blouse. She groans and takes the bowl to the sink.

"Ash, we're ten minutes away from the square. We can wait a few more minutes," says Rosie.

"Why are you so against this?" I ask. "I don't understand! Why so scared? It's just a Reaping! You will _not _be picked. This I can promise. I'm going to volunteer, remember?"

Rosie shakes her head. "You are delusional," I hear her mutter.

I've been insulted before, but those just bounced off me. But being insulted by your best friend? That's low. And it makes me furious. I narrow my gray eyes at her.

"What did you say?"

"I-I said you are…conclusional?" she stammers. I walk forward, my limp making me less intimidating. "Ash, I didn't mean it!"

"Oh, sure you didn't," I spit. I call this girl my friend and she's making me feel less than I really am?

"What is with you today?" she cries. "First, you're babbling on about how great it would be to _kill _people, then you tell me to shut up, and now you're threatening me because I said something that I know I shouldn't have?"

I push her forcefully against the wall. She'll pay for this. Oh, will she pay. Not as much as my family will once I win, but she'll feel the full force of my wrath. "Look," I snarl, "I'm tired of living in cardboard boxes. I'm tired of not being known as a force to be reckoned with. I will live like a normal person, no matter what it takes and I am not letting _you _of all people stand in my way. I am going into the Games to show my family that they made a horrible mistake. And you know what? You just sentenced yourself to something just as bad."

I stride out of her house with as much dignity as I can. A few familiar teenage boys stare spitefully at me as I walk by.

"What are you looking at?" I challenge. Their eyes are wide and they quickly scurry away. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

I hobble angrily to the Reaping. How dare she defy me! How dare she call me delusional! I AM NOT DELUSIONAL. I know this for sure. I may not have had a good life, but I am perfectly sane.

I check in with the Peacekeepers. They draw my blood and scan it to make sure of my identity. I enter my section and many ignore me or scoot away. Let's just say I'm not the most popular or well-liked person in District 5.

I roll my eyes at a crying girl to my left. What a sissy. Seriously? She shouldn't have to worry. It's just a stupid Reaping.

"Don't cry," I tell her. "I'm volunteering."

The girl's puffy eyes shine with fear and she steps away from me.

I roll my eyes. Seriously? Maybe I will go crazy if these people are scared of me.

"Ew, guys, it's that homeless girl who lives near my house," I hear one girl whisper.

"Doesn't she live in a little shack made out of boxes?"

"I heard she hit her brothers and she had to move out."

"Really? I heard that her parents died and the orphanage just wouldn't let her in because she was so sick."

I ignore their comments. I don't know them, so why should I care?"

The bells chime on the Justice Building and I smile slyly. It's time!

The mayor walks out onstage with white notecards and speaks into the microphone. He tells us how the tributes will act when they come up onstage and how people can volunteer (YAY!). Then he introduces the district escort, Berry Gig.

Berry Gig is a man. At least, I think it's a man…he looks like a tree with a white suit on. Gross. His eyes are an unnatural bright green and his pupils are brown instead of black. I have good eyesight to see that much detail…

"Hieveryonegoodtoseeyouhereto dayLet'sgetstartedsohappyHungerGame sandmaytheoddsbeeverinyourfa vorladie'sfirst!" says Berry quickly.

I barely have time to register what he's just said before he stomps over one of the bowls with paper and takes one out. Then he reads the name.

"KendraYale."

The girl with the puffy eyes starts to wail and cry.

"I volunteer!" I yell, raising my hand. I grin as I say this. It's finally happening! "My name is Ash Trellis and I volunteer for Kendra!"

I happily push my way through the crowd of other fifteen-year-old girls and excitedly hop up the stairs.

"Goodwehaveavolunteerandherna meisAshTrellisnowtomoveontot heboys," Berry stammers quickly.

I smile and wave cockily. I must act like I am the best tribute ever (which I am) in order to make others feel intimidated. I'll bet this guy tribute is a wimp and wears glasses.

"FernandoAguilar," the escort says.

A boy with black hair and blue eyes and _glasses _mounts the stage. He looks calm, but his eyes read 'panic attack.'

"Nowit'stimeforthefinalgoodbyesoyou twoshakehandswhenInodmyhead," Berry says.

"Um, I'm sorry," says the black-haired boy. "I didn't catch that."

"He said to shake hands, dummy," I scoff.

"Well excuse me. I don't have supersonic hearing like _some people," _he remarks.

Shoot, he's smarter than he looks!

Berry nods and I we shake hands. I crush his hand and he frowns at me.

"Get ready to meet your better," I whisper.

"What is that supposed to mean? I didn't know I had friends made of butter," the tribute says.

"You'll see what it means soon, boy," I say as the Peacekeepers escort us into the Justice Building.

"You're calling me 'boy?' Seriously? You're the same age I am," he replies.

Before I can respond, I'm thrown into a crimson-colored room.

I groan in frustration. I always get the last word! And what is with him? Is he crazy or something? Why is he so comeback-ish? Is that even a word? Wait, I have a better word—why is he so witty? Stupid boys.

I wait for Rosie to come visit me, but her face doesn't show. I'm boiling mad by the time the Peacekeepers come to take me to the train.

Thanks for being such a great friend, Rosie. Have a nice life.

Now to go into Phase 2 of my 'become a victor' plan. The Capitol awaits.

_Fernando Aguilar, 15 years, District 5_

"Churro! Churro, get back here!" I call to the dog. My Siberian Husky bounds over cheerily. If I only I could be as happy as him all the time. I scratch his head. "Good boy, Churro!"

My friend Angelica laughs as her German shepherd puppy stumbles on a large crack in the pavement. "Star, you have to be careful! Silly puppy."

The puppy waddles over, yips once, and wags her tail excitedly. Angelica bends over and picks up Star. "Do you think we should go home?"

"Probably," I say as we start down the street. Churro stays at my side the entire time like a good dog.

Angelica is basically my older sister, although we're not related in any way. She has auburn hair and brown eyes and I have black hair and dark blue eyes and glasses. She's taller than I am (even if she's two years older) by at least two or three inches. See what I mean? Nothing.

We met when she was eleven and I was nine. I had just found Churro wandering the streets as a puppy and I was starting to train him to know his name and how to follow me around the district. She was the only person who recognized that Churro was a Husky, a long forgotten and rare breed that was popular before Panem was created.

Star barks at a Peacekeeper as we pass an alleyway.

"Star," Angelica warns. The puppy goes silent and I hide a laugh. Churro did that a few times when he was a puppy.

We reach her house and I tell her I'll see her soon. Then Churro and I walk a few houses down and enter through the front door.

"Grandma, I'm home!" I shout. Of course, she won't hear me at all. She's probably passed out on her bed upstairs. But that's Grandma for you. She's always drinking alcohol, always out at her friends' houses. Now that she's too old to work in the power plants, she has a lot of free time. I still have to go to school and got my job working at Plant 1 early since we needed the money. Not only that, but I'm actually smart and already knew how a lot of it worked.

Before the Dark Days, Grandma was normal and actually sane. She used to explain how the plants worked and what she did in the plant. I enjoyed listening to her. She was kind and gentle and always knew how to make me feel better. Then the war started and Grandma decided to help the rebels fight against the Capitol. She came back messed up. She said she'd seen too much. Then she started drinking.

I can't get her to sit still for a single second nowadays. Most of the time, it's just me and Churro in this rickety house.

If I'm not at home, I'm at school or Training Academy or at Angelica's house. Her parents are basically mine, too. I don't know what happened to my parents. Grandma won't tell me anything. She's too tipsy most of the time to explain, anyways.

I feed Churro a strip of dried beef, a rare treat for him. I go up the stairs and into my room after the Husky lays down on his favorite blanket.

I shut my door and get out my notebook. I'm an artist. If I had a choice on my career, I'd be an artist. I draw cartoons, but my best pieces of work are pencil and charcoal sketches of the Dark Days. I've only shown Angelica, but she says they're phenomenal. Everything I am is put into those sketches. They show horror, tragedy, and light in the darkest of places.

My favorite sketch is a hovercraft firebombing the neighborhood across the district. There are people fleeing past the broken fences of the district and raging fires. It's nightime, though, and the only clear part of the picture is the moon. It's the best I've ever done. Grandma would be proud if she could stay sober long enough to look.

I start to draw Star, Angelica's puppy, but the time gets away from me, and I have to change for the Reaping. All I have is a worn denim shirt and black pants. It'll have to do for today.

I clean my black rectangular glasses and try to flatten my cowlick. Stupid hair...there is just too much of it!

I put on my best shoes and go downstairs to fetch Churro. As anyone can see, he goes everywhere with me.

"Come on, boy, let's go walk with Star and Angelica," I tell him. He barks once for clarity. After all these years, he recognizes my friend's name.

Churro and I walk into the Town Square with Angelica and her family.

"Fernando, you're like a son to me," Mrs. Fisher says, giving me a hug.

"Thanks, Mrs. Fisher," I say gratefully. I bend down to Churro's level. His blue dog eyes stare right into mine. "Stay, boy."

He whimpers as I start to walk away.

"Stay," I command. He sits next to Mr. Fisher and looks up at the man.

I check in with the Peacekeepers and go stand in the boy's fifteen section. I twirl my thumbs to keep myself calm.

_Alrighty, now, Fernando, _I think. _You're going to be fine. Your name is NOT going to be read. Angelica's name is NOT going to be read. You're going to return home and have fun with Churro, Star, and Angelica. Fernando Aguilar is NOT nervous. Remember, if your name is actually drawn, then you'll be fine. Just keep yourself reserved and don't be too smart-alecky. You know how that happens when you don't know what to do. _

BING BONG BING!

I guess that new Justice Building has bells, 'cause they're ringing. It must be time for the Reaping to start.

The mayor of District 5, Mayor Reilly, walks out onstage with a stunned look on his face and taps the microphone to make sure it is on.

"Good afternoon, District Five and welcome to the Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games." He doesn't sound too happy to be here today. But that's okay, because I'm not either. "Once the tribute's names are announced by the district escort, the tributes will come up onstage and volunteers will be asked for. Then the tributes will be sent into the Justice Building where friends and family may bid them goodbye before they leave for the Capitol. Now it is my pleasure to introduce to you Berry Gig. He will be the District 5 escort for this year. Please give him a round of applause."

The Capitol man recieves a few claps, but nothing more. When he steps up to the microphone, I'm a bit taken aback. He looks like a living tree! Are those fake apples on his arms? Gross.

I wrinkle my nose at the man before he talks. "Hieveryonegoodtoseeyouhereto dayLet'sgetstartedsohappyHungerGame sandmaytheoddsbeeverinyourfa vorladie'sfirst."

Ummmm...what did he say? He talks super fast. And did he say _happy _Hunger Games? To me, the Hunger Games are not happy.

The announcement of the Games took place exactly six months ago at this very time of day. I was at home and was just about to leave to go to Training Academy when the television set flickered to life. The president appeared and told us 'of this great device that will change our nation forever.' I was infuriated. I hate the idea and always will.

"KendraYale," Berry says. A girl with red eyes starts forward when another girl with black hair and strange posture steps forward, hand raised confidently.

"I volunteer! My name is Ash Trellis and I volunteer for Kendra!" she declares.

She limps up onto the stage and grins at the crowd.

"Goodwehaveavolunteerandherna meisAshTrellisnowtomoveontot heboys," babbles Berry Gig.

I think for a moment and realize what he's just said as he runs to the other bowl and picks the paper from the top of the pile.

"FernandoAguilar."

I immediately move forward to the stairs. I take in a few deep breaths and try to stay composed.

_Be yourself, don't get too crazy with comebacks. Stay calm. Don't show weakness. This girl seems to be ruthless. Showing weakness with lead to being a target. That and I don't want to be seen as a wimp._

Before I finish climbing the five steps, I look back once at Angelica in the seventeen's section. She nods once as if to say, 'don't mess with the Capitol today, it's not worth it.'

I turn back and stand next to the volunteer, Ash.

"Nowit'stimeforthefinalgoodbyesoyou twoshakehandswhenInodmyhead," Berry says.

This guys talks WAY too fast!

"Um, I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," I tell him.

"He said to shake hands, dummy," Ash taunts obviously, rolling her silver eyes in annoyance.

What did I ever do to offend HER?

"Well, excuse me," I reply, "I don't have supersonic hearing like _some _people."

In my head, I scold myself. I shouldn't even be talking to this girl. She'll probably want to kill me the minute I set foot in the arena!

She squints my eyes at me menacingly and I look her straight in the eye, as if I have the confidence to continue into this nightmare.

Berry nods and Ash immediately shakes my hand with bone-crushing strength. Fortunately for me, I have high pain tolerance and just keep calm. This seems to frustrate her even more. I try not to smirk.

"Get ready to meet your better," Ash growls.

What the heck is with this girl?

"What is that supposed to mean?" I wonder. "I didn't know I had friends made of butter."

Stupid mouth! Stop saying directly what's on my mind!

"You'll see what it means soon, boy," she retorts, trying to be mysterious as we're lead into the Justice Building.

I will literally go crazy like Grandma! WHY IS THIS GIRL SO FRUSTRATING?

"You're calling me 'boy?' Seriously? You're the same age I am!" I cry.

Ash scowls and starts to open her mouth, but the Peacekeepers thrust her into a red-hued room.

Then they dump me in the next room and slam the door in my face.

I start to freak out. My palms are clammy and my forehead perspirates like mad. I can't keep still, so I pace all around the room. There's nothing interesting about it. It is just red. The couches, the walls, the carpet, and even the wood of the fake fireplace is blood red. Is the Capitol mocking me?

"Fernando, are you okay?" I hear Angelica's voice and run over to her. We hug tightly. Then I hug Mrs. Fisher and give Mr. Fisher a warm, friendly handshake.

"Be safe," says Mrs. Fisher.

"You're smart, boy," Mr. Fisher encourages. "You may not know what to do in the wilderness, but I can assure you that you'll be fine. You can think on your feet."

"Thank you, sir," I reply. Then I turn back to Angelica, whose eyes are overflowing with tears. "It's up to you to take care of Churro. He knows you, he loves Star. I'll be back soon."

She just nods and takes a deep breath. I give her another hug. "See you, sis."

Angelica doesn't talk, just hugs me back.

A Peacekeeper opens the door in confusion. "Um, there's a dog outside. Is he a visitor of yours?"

Churro.

"Yes," I say instantly.

"And you all," he says, pointing to the Fishers, "it's time for you to leave."

"Actually, sir, I need to stay outside the door," Angelica says. "The dog is mine and I have to take it home once it's done saying goodbye to our tribute."

The Peacekeeper looks perplexed and a bit weirded out, but agrees. "Okay then."

Angelica exits and Churro bounds in excitedly. He jumps on me, sending me flying into the couch. I laugh as he licks my hands and face.

"Churro!" I exclaim. "Churro, get off!"

My Siberian husky calms himself and does as he is told. I get on my knees and hug him. "I love you, boy. You're going to stay with Angelica, okay? I'll be back soon. Don't wait up for me. You'll be with Star and Angelica. They're your two other favorite people."

Churro barks in understanding and licks me once more. It's him I'll miss the most. Churro is not only my dog and pet, but a friend as well. He's someone who doesn't tell anyone what I tell him (not that he can or anything). He sticks by me no matter what happens and never will abandon me.

A tear drips down my face and I stand. "Good dog, Churro. Now go to Angelica."

He hesitates and sits again. "Churro, go to Angelica. Go."

My dog runs out of the room and the door closes again.

That is the last time I will ever see Churro.

**Not my best or longest Reaping, but I hope you enjoyed! (:**


	7. District 6 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 6 Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games!**

**Thanks for reading on! Wow, I've gotten a lot more reivews! Remember, one reivew=new chapter!**

**So I've got big news: I'm making this into a movie! I'm currently in the middle of casting and writing the script and getting scenes together. I've already cast at least ten tributes and am really excited for you to see it! It will be up on YouTube probably in June/July or around the start of summer (at least here in the USA). I'll give you guys an update every time I update this story! (:**

**Are any of you fans of the Maze Runner? Did you know they've already cast Alby and Gally? I'M SO EXCITED! And guess who's going to play Gally? Will Poulter! He's Eustace on the Voyage of the Dawn Treader! I don't know who the guy playing Alby is though. I've never heard of him...but aren't you excited? :D **

**Anyways, on with the story! A big thanks to VictorGirl14 and crimsonstarburst131 for the tributes! **

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim any copyrights to **_**The Hunger Games **_**trilogy. Suzanne Collins is the rightful owner.**

* * *

DISTRICT 6

_Wryn Linford, 14 years, District 6_

The room is a navy blue. I'm not particularly fond of it, but it's where I'll have to be for now. At least until the Peacekeepers come to collect me for the train. Then I will have to see that gross, older teen boy next door. I don't like the way he looks at me.

This isn't exactly an ideal situation for me. I have people here that I care about. Except dad. He was killed by the Capitol just a year or two ago.

Dad was a soldier for the rebels in the Dark Days. The Capitol took him away. They wronged me. Heck, they wronged all of us here in District 6 and, of course, in all of the other districts. President Snow says that _we're _the ones that deserve punishment for striking out against 'our loving and faithful government that only wants the best for each and every one of you.' But I don't give a flying Ford pick-up truck about what comes out of that man's mouth. He's even worse than the Capitol Council's head member.

Before the Dark Days exploded and the districts were suffering from political and economic unrest, dad took me out to an abandoned warehouse at the edge of the district and taught me how to use a dagger. I was just nine at the time and wasn't sure why he was making me learn this stuff. I didn't think I'd ever have to use my skills. These skills include hand to hand combat, the weakest places on a human that will kill quickly, and how to knock someone out without using a rock or your fist.

Some know of my abilities and think that a measly fourteen-year-old girl shouldn't be aware of such things. A few kids at school know not to mess with me or my sisters, Chloris and Aretha for just this reason.

I know why dad trained me. He had a feeling something like the Hunger Games would be developed and wanted to prepare me for it. He could tell what direction that our government would turn. And it turned out to be even worse than the Dark Days themselves.

When the announcement of the Hunger Games was broadcast to all of Panem, my heart literally stopped beating and, for a moment, time stood still. Aretha started crying, Chloris was stunned, mom was furious, and I was...somehow calm. It didn't really surprise me that Snow made this happen. Even though I was terrified, and still am to this very day, I didn't expect much more from those heinous Capitol people. They're cruel and heartless and believe that just because they're from the Capitol, they're better than those in the Districts. It disgusted me and frightened me at the same time.

Chloris was only eleven at the time and Aretha was to turn ten in a month. Mom and I were relieved that I was the only one eligible for the Games. But then we did the math and realized that Chloris would turn twelve exactly one week before the Reaping. This sent mom over the edge and shut herself in her room. Chloris was collected and said she wasn't afraid. Aretha was in hysterics and I was the only one left to comfort her. I started crying myself as I held her.

Many at school would be surprised at my sympathy for my sister. They see me as cold and unforgiving. However, I don't talk much because I'm shy and need my space. I'm what people used to call an introvert.

Pentz and Ursa, my two good friends, are both in my year and know I'm not rude or heartless. They like me for who I am.

I presently sit in a dark blue, silk armchair. I put my hands on my face and curl my legs up underneath me.

At least it's not Chloris being sent to the arena, right?

This thought does nothing to calm my fears. My vibrant amber eyes scan the room for a pillow to clutch to make my hands stop trembling. I may not always act this vulnerable, I certainly feel like it now. What am I supposed todo? I can't kill other kids! That's not right! It's unhuman and disgusting!

I grit my teeth to keep them from chattering in anxiety. I'm dreading these next few weeks. If I even live that long...

_No, Wryn! _I scold myself. _Don't think that way! You can survive! You know about plants and how to fight if you need to. You'll be okay! Maybe you can win._

But even this can't calm my nerves.

I think back to just an hour or two ago. I was walking with my sisters to the Reaping.

I held Aretha's hand and walked behind mom and Chloris.

"Did you just squeak?" Aretha asked suspiciously. And I had just let out a little whimper of fear. But I didn't want her to get scared for me or Chloris, so I denied it.

"No, I just coughed."

"You did not," Aretha said. "You squeaked 'cause you're scared."

"It's okay for her to be scared today, Aretha," mom defended. "She has a perfectly good reason to be frightened. Today is not a happy day."

"She still squeaked," Aretha mocked. I rolled my eyes at my little sister and we walked on to the Town Square.

As soon as we reached it, Chloris tugged on my mom's sleeve. "Can we wait a second? I feel kind of sick."

We do as my sister wanted and moved off to side, out of the flow of children and parents.

"Are you okay?" I questioned.

"No," she said, her breathing getting a bit shallow. This scared me. I'd never seen my sister like this. She was normally so tough and brave. I knew something was definitely wrong when I saw her breathing so quickly.

"Chloris, you'll be fine," mom said.

"How do you know?" accused Chloris rudely.

"Chloris," I said warningly. But then I softened. "You're only twelve. Your name is only in the bowl once. Don't worry about it okay? There's almost no chance of your name being drawn, okay?"

"But—"

"Stop," I demanded. "Even if it is, you won't have to go."

I don't think she realized what I had just said until we'd said 'see you soon' to mom and Aretha and were in line for check-in.

"Wait, Wryn, no!" she exclaimed, "I'd much rather have me be sent to Capitol!"

"Chloris, listen to me," I told her firmly. "I have _special skills, _remember?"

"I don't care," she refused.

"No," I said roughly. "You will not go. This is promise you. And if my name is called, you better not volunteer or else."

"Fine," she huffed.

We were checked in by the Peacekeepers and we went to our sections.

I entered my section with a heavy heart and a jumbled mind.

_Not Chloris, not Chloris, not Chloris, _my mind repeated. I scanned the crowd of girls to find my friend Ursa.

Then a hand popped up above the other's heads. "Wryn, over here!"

I smiled slightly and made my way to my friend. She stood by the gender dividing line. Pentz stood in his own section and raised his eyebrows when I arrived.

"Hey," I greeted.

"Tense much?" Ursa smirked. I rolled my eyes again and thought about Chloris's refusal to not volunteer for me if my name was picked.

"Oh, not at all," I said sarcastically.

"Because, you know, getting chosen to die is not scary at all, Ursa," Pentz joked.

"It's true," I continued the joke, "if our name is read, I think I'll jump for joy! Yay, a chance to kill other teens!"

A girl gave me a side-glance that was confused and petrified at the same time.

"It's a joke," I told her reassuringly. I turned back to my friends. "Honestly, is it that hard to take a joke?"

"Maybe today it is," Ursa said.

"Only for some," Pentz pointed out. "Just because it's a nerve-wracking day doesn't mean you can't be silly for a second."

"Although, I don't actually want to die," I said seriously. Both of my friends nodded in agreement.

"I don't think any of us here do," Pentz said.

"Yeah," agreed Ursa.

Then bells chimed. It was time for the Reaping to begin. I took a deep breath and raised my eyebrows at the Capitol person next to the mayor. This person was dressed in all white except for his hair. It was a bright crimson red. The color of blood.

The mayor welcomed us and told us about the Reaping. He explained the process of the reading of the tribute's names and volunteers. I glanced up at Chloris in the front in the twelve year old's section as the mayor read the Treaty of Treason.

_She better not volunteer if my name is called, _I thought gruffly.

But my nerves seemed to get worse and worse as the district escort, Red Burgundy, addressed the district and strode over to get the girl's name.

My breathing got more shallow and sharp as he slowly but dramatically walked back over the microphone.

_Just hurry up and read the name! _I thought impatiently.

My teeth chattered even more and I shivered as if cold. But I wasn't. I was scared out of my mind.

I had just swallowed some saliva quickly and gulped when Red Burgundy read the girl tribute's name.

"Wryn Linford."

_WHAT?_

I started choking on my saliva and coughed quietly a few times. Ursa and Pentz looked at me, concerned and surprised at the same time.

"Wryn Linford? Come on up," Red called again. "You're now a tribute for the Hunger Games."

I choked again and quite coughing. Then I stumbled once over my feet and went forward mechanically.

All the girls in my section stared at me in fear. Some knew of my skills with a knife. They knew I would probably win. But I didn't, and still don't, think that that will be the outcome of the first annual Hunger Games.

"Ah, there you are!" Red cried.

I mounted the stage and stared right at Chloris.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Red asked into the microphone.

I glared at Chloris, her hand trembling with restraint. I knew how much she wanted to save me. I gave her a slight shake of my head and a cold, hard stare that screamed 'Chloris Linford, don't you dare speak!'

"Alright, good! Now we will choose our boy tribute."

I took a shaky, tearful breath and held my head high. I was alarmed, scared stiff, and chilled to the bone with the thought of living in the nightmare that will be the arena. I wondered who my district partner would be.

"Narcissus Brone," Red declared.

A dark brown haired, dark brown-eyed older boy came up onto the stage with a self-rightous, confident air about him.

I glared at him out of the corner of my eye. He gave me sly smile that I despised the moment he looked at me.

I whipped my head back to face the crowd.

And as I sit here in the goodbye room contemplating strategies, my eyes start to tear up. I will leave for the Capitol soon with a creepy teenage boy and a dramatic district escort. How I hate this world of Panem!

"You have only a few minutes," I hear a grumpy voice boom through the thick wood doors.

Aretha, mom, and Chloris stumble into the room. I stand and Chloris rockets straight into my arms sobbing. She grips the back of my dress in her fists angrily.

"Why didn't you let me volunteer?" she cries. "What the heck, Wryn? You could die all because you wouldn't let me volunteer!"

She bawls even harder and I start tocry with her. Mom and Aretha come over and hug us both.

I pull away from Chloris and look her straight in the eye. "Quit it right now, Chloris," I say. "You better be happy I didn't let you volunteer. You would almost certainly die."

"Wryn!" mom exclaims.

"That may not be true!" Aretha says.

"It is so! I have been training since I was your age, Aretha!" I explain. "I have more of a chance than any of us to live. I have the skills, so none of you worry one bit, okay? Just promise me that you'll miss me and cheer for me. That's all I ask."

I'm acting like I'll be back, but I know I won't. Fresh tears begin to fall and I hug them tightly.

"Here," says mom, handing me something small and cold.

"What is it?" I quiz, wiping my wet and puffy eyes.

"Well, why don't you actually look at it?" mom says good-naturedly. I do as she says. It's a small, oval bronze locket with a single white stone in the center. I open it to find a single picture of dad on one side. He's laughing at something not shown. It's a wonderful photograph. On the other side is a picture of all of us before dad died. We're all smiling.

I jump into my mother's arms. "Thank you."

"Time to go," the Peacekeeper says once the door creaks open.

I give them each one more hug.

"Promise me that you'll come back," Chloris whispers in my ear.

"I promise," I croak. Then they're gone.

But soon Ursa and Pentz visit me. They assure me that I have a good chance of winning. Pentz even tells me that he sort of likes me.

Then the Peacekeeper comes back and throws them out.

I curl up in the armchair again, head in hands. I rock back and forth. I must look insane.

I promise, Chloris. I promise.

* * *

_Narcissus Brone, 16 years, District 6_

"Wow, you're amazing," I tell Jen quietly.

"You're pretty amazing yourself," she whispers back. I lean in for another kiss, but Tanner hoots at us.

"Whoo! Look at the lovebirds! I knew you'd be back here!"

I pull away and sigh. "Seriously, dude? We were actually trying to be romantic here!"

"Well excuse me for being your friend," Tanner says as he strides over. "And besides, it's time for the Reaping."

I roll my eyes. Oh, come on. This stupid competition thing? I hate this! The trouble with living in the districts!

"Whatever. I'm not going. I think I'll stay here with Jen," I say, referring to us being behind the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the district. This is the place I take all my girlfriends when we want alone time.

"I like that idea," she purrs.

"Good," I say. I lean in for another kiss, but Tanner tugs me away. "Seriously?!"

"Hey, I don't want to get in trouble with the Peacekeepers for not showing up, so you're coming with me."

Tanner yanks on my shirt collar and drags me away.

"See you later, Jen!" I call.

"Bye!" she calls back.

Tanner and I make our way through the warehouses and shipyards.

"Seriously, Tanner?" I gripe.

"Like I said, I am not getting my butt whipped and neither are you," he says.

"But I was with Jen!" I cry.

"Who cares? It's not like you're going to be dating her tomorrow," Tanner scoffs. I smile.

"That's true," I agree. "I'll probably find someone better at the Reaping. Her eyes aren't the right color. I want someone with light brown eyes, not green. Besides, she's not good enough for me. I'm too handsome."

And this I say with full seriousness. I'm the best-looking person in my year and all the girls know it. Lots of them like me. Lots of them are secretly dating me. I like to date a lot of girls at once. I know they all want to kiss me, so why not let them?

Tanner knows I hate having one girlfriend at once. Do you know how boring that would be? Ick, how unexciting. I know I'm better than all of them and I'm above the dating rules. They just don't always understand that.

"Where's your dad?" Tanner wonders.

"Who cares? He's probably at home crying his eyes out again," I laugh. "He's such a softie. I don't care if he's a genius or not. He has too many emotional issues."

My father is a high-speed train designer for District 6. He stays at home most of the time and always tries to talk to me about his work. He doesn't understand that there is no way I want to sit around like a complete nerd and talk about trains. That's what weak people do. I'm not weak.

I have to admit, I'm actually a very intelligent person, but that's one thing I don't like to brag about. I like my bad-boy reputation. There's something about it that makes me irresistable. Every girl loves a bad-boy.

"Hey," I say as I pass a cute redhead. She rolls her eyes and goes back to her friends. I can sense them checking me out. I hold my head a bit higher and flash a smile in their direction. One blushes and I turn back to Tanner.

"See that? Learn, Tanner, learn from the master," I smirk.

"Yeah, the master who lost two girls in four _hours," _Tanner points out.

"Shut up," I tell him.

We line up at the check-in counter and wait.

To be honest, I'm not nervous at all. Are you kidding me? This has to be a hoax. A game where kids and teens go to kill each other on live television? Give me a break. What a stupid idea. Although, that would be entertaining. I'd watch that in a heartbeat.

Tanner seems a little nervous, and I start to get the butterflies too, but that might be because I've spotted a girl. Ooh, she's good looking! She looks maybe fifteen, but that's not stopping me. That's only a year younger. She's even got amber-colored eyes! Score!

"Hey, Tanner," I say, nudging his arm, "look at that one!"

I watch my friend's reaction as he sees the dark brown haired girl walk away. He raises his eyebrows.

"Nice catch, bro," he says cheerfully. "You going to go for her?"

"Maybe after the Reaping. If I asked her out now, there's less of a chance she'll say yes," I reason.

"Sounds good to me," Tanner says.

A Peacekeeper beckons me forward and makes me give him my finger. He pricks it and puts my blood on a square in his book. He scans it and checks the results.

"Go ahead," he orders. I wait for Tanner and we go to the sixteen's section. This time, practically all the girls say hi to me, except a few whose hearts were actually shattered when I broke up with them.

"See that? That's why I'm so full of myself," I laugh. "See all those girls? They love me, dude."

Tanner chuckles. "Great to know your friend means so much to you."

"Don't giggle like that, Tan," I say. "You sound like my dad."

"What's wrong with your dad, Narcissus? He's just trying to look out for you," Tanner says. I turn to my friend and scoff at him.

"He's trying to hold me back," I explain. "He thinks I can't handle myself. Obviously I can because look at all the girls that chase after me! They know I'm mature and a great guy. Dad thinks I'm still a little kid. I'm sixteen and he's holding me back. He can't tell me what to do."

My dad bothers me so much, I seriously want to run away sometimes. He tries to hug me and says, 'I love you, son, don't forget that.' Uh, duh, dad, I know you love me because I'm your son! It's like a rule of life to love your family. That's why I'm such a rebel: I don't love my dad. It sounds horrible, but do you know how unreasonable he is?

One time, Tanner and I were going to sneak into the old warehouse with a few of our friends, invite some girls, and have a party with some stuff a few other guys had stolen from the markets and other warehouses. Dad refused to let me go. 'You'll get in trouble' he said. 'You shouldn't be friends with those people' he said. 'What happened to the old Narcissus' he said. 'I grew up' I replied.

And I have. I had just turned fifteen. I was definitely old enough for a party. I'm sixteen now and even more of an adult now than I was back then.

I stand laughing with Tanner and staring at that brown haired girl. She's just horizontal from me one section down. She must be fourteen. Dang, is she pretty.

BING BONG BING BONG.

What the heck? Bells in the Justice Building? Really? You couldn't have just walked onstage and announced 'hey, it's time for the Reaping to start!'

"Hello, District 6, and welcome to the Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games," the mayor welcomes. "Today is a historic day and it is an honor to be a part of it. I will now read the Treaty of Treason sent from the Capitol, and then the Reaping will proceed. The names of both tributes will be read and volunteers will be asked for. Then the tributes will be put in rooms in the Justice Building just behind me and family and friends will be allowed to say goodbye."

"Oh, great," I whisper to Tanner, "this'll probably last an hour or two."

"Hooray," Tanner replies sarcastically. I smirk and listen to what the mayor is reading and what the district escort, Red Burgundy is saying.

But before I can listen, I have to be amazed by what he's wearing. It's a bit strange, but it's the Capitol and the Capitol has really weird clothes. Everything he's wearing is white, even his eyebrows. His shirt is really puffy and fluffy and his pants are shiny and sparkly. But his hair is a bright red that looks like blood.

"Hey, District 6! It's great to be here representing all of you in the first annual Hunger Games!" he says. He's kind of cheery, but seems somewhat normal for a Capitol person. "Now is the time to pick the girl tribute's name. May the odds be ever in your favor."

Then he strides over and plucks a name from inside a glass bowl.

I'm not worried about this part of the Reaping at all. It's evidently not going to be me that's sent to the Capitol, so why should I pay attention?

But then Red reads the name and that cute brown haired girl goes up onstage.

"Hey, that's my future girlfriend!" I grumble quietly.

"I guess you'll have to stick with Jen," Tanner says.

"But I don't want to stick with Jen! I want to be with that girl!" I protest, pointing to the stage where she's standing. "I get everything I want, and I want her."

I start to make my way through the crowd up to the stage when I hear my name called.

"Narcissus Brone."

I grin. What a piece of luck!

I scramble up the steps and stand close to the brown haired girl who just glares. Oh, we'll see about your feelings later...

"And here we have it! The tributes from District 6! Let's all give them a big round of applause!" Red steps back and faces us. "Now you have to shake hands."

I turn quickly and take her hand in mine. "I'm Narcissus."

"Wryn," she retorts, yanking her hand out of mine. I just grin slyly.

"Look, I know you don't like me very much, but you will later," I tell her. She gives me a weird look.

"Good to know," she says coldly. "But we won't be friends. Ever. We have to be enemies."

I snort. "No we don't. I'm an awesome person and you won't want to be enemies once you get to know me."

"I don't think so," she snipes as her door closes behind her.

She may be in denial, but I'm so handsome, she'll have to talk tome sooner or later.

I'm put into a navy blue room and told to wait there until Red comes to get me.

"Whatever," I mumble. I plop down into a chair and twiddle my thumbs. What am I supposed to do now?

But then the door opens and a pile of girls rush in. They all are either crying, panicking, yelling, or crying, panicking, _and _yelling.

I say a personal goodbye to each and every one of them and settle back into a couch. It's great to be me.

"H-hello? Narcissus?"

I groan and roll my eyes. Oh, terrific, it's my father.

"Hi, dad," I mutter, arms crossed.

"Narcissus, you're being sent off the arena where you'll be killed!" he cries. "Aren't you afraid?"

"Listen, pops," I say, standing as if he means nothing to me (which he really doesn't). "I'm going to win this thing, so don't worry about me. Just go back to designing your little trains and move on with your life."

"That is no way to speak to your father," he frowns. "Now apologize. I don't want to send you off with us fighting. Please promise me you'll try to win, okay? I can't lose you like I lost your mom. I wouldn't be able to live."

He gives me a hug and I can't help but hug him back. I feel kind of bad. Dad really does care about me.

"I swear, dad, I will try," I say. "How can I not? If I'm going to win, I have to try."

"Good, son, good. Now be safe and don't date any more girls. I think I almost got trampled when they all came out in a stampede," dad says.

"I can't promise you that," I tell him truthfully.

He pats my arm. "See you soon, son. I love you."

"Whatever, dad," I roll my eyes. "But yeah, I'll see you soon."

Okay, maybe my dad's not all bad, but he sure is annoying.

Tanner comes to visit me and is totally cool with me going. He tells me to have fun for him, then he leaves.

Then Red comes to take me to the train along with that girl, Wryn, who just stares straight ahead as I try to talk to her during the car ride. There's no answer, just a punch in the sternum when I try to comfort her.

This'll be a hard train to build, if you know what I mean.

* * *

**Hope you liked it! (:**


	8. District 7 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 7 Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games!**

**It's time to vote for your favorite tribute! You can vote for up to three tributes. But before you vote, make sure to read the character profiles on my profile page. READ THE PROFILES BEFORE YOU VOTE! This is critical because you haven't read some of the character's reapings yet. May the odds be ever in your favor. (:**

**A big thanks to Elandil and crimsonstartburst131 for these tributes! They were very interesting to write for!**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any copyrights to any part of Suzanne Collins' **_**The Hunger Games.**_

* * *

DISTRICT 7

_Brow Ojay, 17 years, District 7_

I smirk as the wood splinters and slices clean in half when my axe comes down. Perfectly executed. But that's just the way I am, practically perfect. The only problem is that I've heard that saying somewhere...I think in an old 'American' movie about a lady who babysits kids for a living and flies with some sort of umbrella.

However, I do not babysit annoying whiners for a living. I chop wood. Literally, that's all we do here in seven.

It sounds like I hate it here, and I actually do. Seriously? I chop wood for a living. Think about it. Pathetic, right? I wish I were from four. I've heard it's more exciting making nets than making trees fall. Just kidding. Net making is for girls. And, thankfully, I am definitely _not _a girl.

I tougher than most guys here in District 7. I am strong, good-looking, and tall. But most girls can't see that because they all hate me. Apparently telling someone that they look hideous in the color yellow is bad. Did you know that? What's so wrong about it? I was being honest.

Oh, yeah, they also hate me because I'm super humble. You know, I love myself, and what's wrong with showing that off? I'm pretty awesome. They just can't see that.

And you know what else makes me amazing? I'm not scared of anything, especially the Hunger Games. I can't believe people are still freaking out over that harmless competition. Are you kidding me? It's just a stupid reality TV show. I will love watching it!

Here's the thing about it though: I won't be watching, I'll be on it. That's right, I'm volunteering for the Hunger Games! It'll be easy as pie. And maybe if I win, my district will finally be proud and won't hate me anymore.

I pick up the firewood and place it in my burlap sack. I sling the bag over my shoulder and strut into town.

An old lady hurries by without glancing at my face. A group of teenage girls backs away as I walk past. I wink at a few of them and they turn away in disgust. I just roll my eyes. Once I win, they'll be feeling something completely the opposite of disgust.

I trade a few pieces of firewood at the Stump, the open-air trading market in the center of town, for some apples and cloth. I realize I still have one piece of firewood left and glance over at the sweet stand. I know Reyna would like some candy from me. She loves candy of any sorts.

Reyna is my older sister. She's twenty-one and is the only person whom I trust. She's been my friend ever since I can remember and doesn't judge me or care what I say.

I walk suspiciously up to the candy stand and place the last piece of wood on the counter.

"Two peppermint sticks," I demand. Why should I say please when I can beat up any person who says no?

"Good morning, Brow," greets Fire Man, placing his fists on the counter.

No one knows what Fire Man's real name is any more. He's too old and brittle to care about much and has found a pathetic lifestyle selling candy. Not the worst job in the world, but it could be better. Fire Man is cheerful, chatty, and eager to please. The characteristics I despise so wholy about so many people.

"Two peppermint sticks," I repeat.

The old man nods and takes the wood. "So how about that Reaping? You nervous, son?"

"Of course not," I snort. "Why would I be nervous?"

"Well, if your name is drawn, you'll be sent off to kill other teens. I'd be scared if I were you," he replies. He slowly digs through a box.

_Come on, old guy, I have to get home! _I think.

"I think I'd be okay," I defend. "I fought in the Dark Days. I've seen what war can do to a person."

"This is very different, though, because you're killing people by yourself. You're the only member on your team," Fire Man says.

He walks over and digs through another box.

"Can we hurry it up, old man? I've got somewhere to be," I say, trying to speed him up. Is it really that hard to find two sticks of flipping peppermint?

"Here's the first one," he says, placing the sweet on the counter. I snatch it up and put it in my pocket.

"Come on, I haven't got all day!" I order. "I've got to get to the Reaping since I'm the one going to the Capitol today!"

Fire Man nods and smiles as he holds out the peppermint stick.

"Took you long enough," I spit, grabbing the candy and hurrying away.

"Good luck," calls Fire Man.

"Shut it," I mutter, striding back to my house.

I kick at the grass as I walk on the path through the forest.

As I come across the clearing that my family's log cabin abides, I spot my father in the front yard. Oh, joy.

This person is yet another being whom I have no point in trusting. Dad is not someone I could ever be friends with. He's cruel and cold and abusive. Kind of like me, but I will never hit kids, only people my own age.

"Where the heck have you been, Brow?" he yells. I roll my eyes and smooth down my reddish-black hair in annoyance.

"Where do you think, dad?" I challenge. "I leave the house every day and you've never said one word about it. I've been at the Stump. I got more apples for you, just like Reyna said I should. I even got more cloth for her. Calm your old mind down, will you, pops?"

I frown and enter the log cabin. Dad follows after, stomping in behind me.

"Next time, tell me where you are! Leave a note or something! Just don't let me catch you out by yourself again, especially on a day like today."

I whip around and look at him like he's insane, which he is. "The one day you actually care about me and what I do is Reaping day? Dad, this is my day! You don't need to worry about anything! You've never worried before so why worry now? I am too cool to be seen talking to my dad and maybe I don't want to talk to him at all! Quit bossing me around! This is the first time you've tried telling me what to do in five years. Do you really think I'm going to listen to you now when I didn't listen to you back then?"

I throw open the cupboard and take out the butter and bread. This will be my lunch.

Dad stands there in fury. "Now you listen to me, Brow—"

"No, I will not listen to you!" I exclaim.

What is with him today? Did all those years of work finally conk out his noggin or something? He's more crazy than usual.

"I will never consider you my dad because you failed me!" I continue. "You've failed me as a father and I turned out just fine, so why try to change me now?"

"Brow? Dad? What the heck is going on?" Reyna asks as she enters the kitchen. "Brow, calm yourself. Dad, maybe you should get some fresh air. Walks have always helped."

"Get off my case, Reyna," grumbles dad as he steps out of the cabin.

I scowl and sit down with my small lunch. I don't need much. I can't get fat or else I'll be hated even more. And when I win the Hunger Games, I've got to stay awesome for the ladies.

"The one day he cares..." mutters Reyna, irritatedly closing the cupboard.

"That's what I said," I tell her. "Hey, I picked something up for you today."

"Candy?" Reyna says hopefully.

I pull out the peppermint sticks. "Knock yourself out, sis."

"Thanks," she smiles. She hands one back to me. "You have one, too. Maybe it'll calm your nerves."

Um, excuse me? Nerves? Ha!

"What nerves?" I say, biting into the bread.

"You know, for the Reaping," Reyna clarifies.

I chuckle. "Reyna, this silly little Reaping doesn't give me the jitters one bit. Are you kidding me? They're just reading names. It's not like the tributes are going into the arena just yet."

"Brow, they're going to have to _kill _other teens. Don't you think that's a bit crazy?" exasperates Reyna.

"No, not at all! It'll be entertaining to watch," I say. "Of course, I won't be here to watch. You'll be able to watch me."

"No you don't," Reyna says angrily. "Don't you dare volunteer for those Games!"

"What if I do?" I counter cockily. "I could easily beat those kids. I'm pretty tall, if you haven't noticed, and also strong. I can throw axes. I know how to kill. I'll be out of there before you know it. The Games won't last more than four days."

And it's true. I've been using axes since I was four. There's no way anyone could beat me. I'm skilled and know how to get under people's skin. Heck , I do that everyday!

Suddenly there's a knock at the door and Reyna tells them to come in. But before the door even opens, I know exactly who it is. It's Cedar Pines, Reyna's fiancée. I hate his guts and he knows it.

Cedar was Reyna's teenage sweetheart and they dated for five years until he proposed to her last year. That was one of the worst days of my life. I've never trusted him and I never will. He's sketchy and arrogant. I guess we're also a bit similar which probably why I hate him.

"Hey, Reyna," Cedar smiles. Then he sees me and his face falls. "Brow."

"Woodchuck," I reply.

"Woodchuck?" Reyna wonders. I smirk at her fiancée and stand.

"Yeah, Reyna, can't you see it? He's tubby and has huge buckteeth. Therefore, he is a woodchuck."

"Shut it, Brow," Cedar commands.

I halt in my tracks. Oh no he didn't.

"What did you say?" I say.

"I said to shut it," he says, stepping forward. I do the same.

"Anyone in the past that has told me to shut up has gotten sent to the infirmary," I say. "You better not tell me that again."

"Brow, come on—"

"Shut up, Cedar," I tell him. I stand over him like a tree stands over a bush.

"Now, now, boys, don't get out of hand. Brow, you need to back down," my sister tells me firmly.

I back away, holding up my hands in defeat. Reyna is the only one that can tell me what to do.

"Thanks, Reyna," Cedar says, relieved I'm out of his personal space.

I start towards the door to head to the Reaping when I hear him mutter, "We're moving into a different house, right? I don't want this clumsy lumberjack to get in my way."

My blood boils and I clench my teeth. My hands curl into fists and I turn slowly on my heel.

I've put up with a lot from this jerk, and now he's just crossed to the line. I've dealt with a lot of this kind of crud from my classmates and now I'm going to be getting it at home?

"That's how you want to play, Woodchuck? That's how you want to play?" I scream. I throw a vase of flowers at him and he dodges it. "Get out of this house! GET OUT!"

I barrel towards him, but Reyna silently steps in front of him.

"Go to the Reaping, Brow," she instructs. "Get out of the house right now."

"You can't kick me out of my own house, Reyna! I'm leaving this place because the air is getting all musty! And I'll bet you can guess why. You'll be the first to go down when I get back from the Games, Cedar! Just you wait!"

_Never again will I talk to that jerk, _I think. _I'll bet he's terrified of me now. He better be, or I'll go crazy on him._

* * *

I stand in my section, ready to volunteer. Finally, the best part of the day is here. Soon, I'll be out of everyone's hair and when I come home, they'll all love me.

"Look who it is," I hear a voice beside me. "It's Ojay."

I look to see that it's Titus, a guy just one year ahead of me. He thinks he's better than me, but I know for sure that's not true. I'm a way better person.

"Titus," I say. "I thought you'd be too scared to show up. You know, considering that if your name is drawn you probably won't last three minutes in the arena."

"You think you're so awesome, Ojay," he says, stepping closer to me.

"And you think you're so clever, Titus," I say. "You know I'm better at everything. You're too scared to admit that I'm stronger, faster, and not to mention, good-looking."

Titus chuckles annoyingly and I do my best not sock him in the mouth just to shut him up. I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes at him.

We stand eye to eye, challenging each other to say something else.

"And you know what, Ojay?" Titus says quietly but spitefully, "You're nothing but a doll with sawdust as brains."

Bells ring and my mind races.

_Sawdust as brains, crud, clumsy lumberjack, get in my way, a doll, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing...NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING..._

"You asked for it, Titus," I growl. Then my arm goes up and my fist collides with his jaw.

People around us gasp and back away.

Titus stumbles backwards, looking shocked but angry. He assesses the damage and comes at me.

Our fight breaks out. I punch him in the chest and he screams, pretending to be hurt badly.

"Get him off me!" he screams. "It hurts so bad!"

But I don't hear a thing.

"NO ONE WILL HATE ME AGAIN!" I yell. I punch him a few more times until a pair of strong arms grabs me from behind. I reach behind me and punch the white-suited figure. A Peacekeeper.

More try to keep me down and finally have me held tightly.

"NO! LET ME AT HIM! YOU'LL PAY, TITUS! JUST YOU WAIT!" I bellow.

I try to wrench my arms free, but the Peacekeepers hold them in place.

_There's no way that Reyna can marry that idiot and I can't let that stupid Titus get ahold of me now! LET ME FREE! I'm supposed to go into the Hunger Games! _

The Peacekeepers make me stay until the district escort calls the girl tribute's name.

"Mana Greeves!"

A girl with bright yellow hair and bright blue eyes mounts the stage and the district escort speaks into the microphone again.

"And we already have a volunteer! Will Brow Ojay please come up onto the stage?"

* * *

_Mana Greeves, 15 years, District 7_

"Zeke, do you know where my hair ribbon went?" I quiz my best friend. He peers around the corner.

"I'm not a girl," he says. "How should I know?"

"It was just a question," I retort.

"No, I haven't seen it anywhere," he says. "But what about this one?"

Zeke holds up a light blue hair ribbon and I jump up to grab it. Not again!

"Give it here!" I say, jumping for it.

"Come and get it!" he calls, running down the hall.

"Get back here right now, Zeke Flanders!" I yell good-naturedly.

If it was anyone else that took my ribbons, I would be mad, but Zeke is my best friend and I can't be mad at him any time.

"Hurry up, Mana! You're so slow!" he hollers over his shoulder.

"You're just too fast!" I holler back.

Zeke sprints out of the house and into the field outside. I laugh as he trips and falls. I hurriedly seize the ribbon and hold it teasingly above his head.

"Ha," I mock. "I got the ribbon back."

"Don't tempt me to tackle you again, Mana Greeves. You know what happened the last time you did something like this," says Zeke, standing quickly.

"Oh, I remember, this time you're just not going to be able to catch me!"

"Yeah, right. But we should probably keep getting ready for the Reaping."

"Now I have to brush my hair again!" I complain.

"It's your fault," he says as we walk back to the house.

"You're the one who took my ribbon!" I protest.

"Whatever," jokes Zeke.

We enter the house and Orchid, Zeke's mom, stops us.

"Were you two running around again?" she asks suspiciously, waving a wooden spoon at our faces.

I blush sheepishly. Zeke and I are always running. It's just sort of what we do. We run to school, we run at school, we run home from school, we run—a lot.

"Yeah," Zeke admits.

"Well don't get too ruffled because the Reaping starts in an hour," Orchid scolds.

"Sorry," we mumble.

"Mm hm," Orchid smiles. "Now go get ready."

"Alright," I say, going toward the stairs. "Race you up, Zeke!"

I start up before he has a chance to process what I've just said.

"Hey, wait a second! That's not fair!"

I laugh and run into my room. I close the door so I can get ready in private.

I brush out my hair and put it up in the ribbon. I inspect it and smooth down any loose hairs that may have popped out of the ribbon. I pat the top of my platinum blonde hair and scan my Reaping clothes with my bright blue eyes. The clothes aren't much, but I love them. I'm wearing a white blouse and a soft, light blue skirt. Orchid got them for me when I moved in with them a few years ago.

As anyone can see, Orchid is obviously not my mother, but Zeke could easily be my brother. He has light blonde hair and blue eyes just like me, although he's just a bit taller than I am. We're even the same age.

Zeke is my best friend in the entire world. I've known him since we were both eight. I moved in with him and his family when I was twelve.

At age twelve, I was bitter and distrusting of anyone that came my way. I was especially guarded when it came to my mother, who slowly started drinking more and more alcohol. She became obsessed with money and almost sold us to some rich Capitol leaders. Us being me and my little brother who is now just twelve. Mother would beat us when she was drunk and threw us out of the house a few times.

Orchid, Zeke's mom, found out and told the Peacekeepers. Thankfully, here in seven, the Peacekeepers are more lenient and actually get to know some of the people in the district. Orchid went to one of them and told them about my mother's abuse. I was sent to live with Zeke and my brother was to live with my mom. This sent me over the edge because I knew mom would end up really hurting him someday and I wouldn't be there to protect him. My brother, Elliot, was scared out of his mind, and used to come visit me. I would keep him with me and Zeke for as long as I could until mom came around and told him to come home. Elliot will come live with us once he turns thirteen in a few months. He can't wait to get away.

Because of my mom, I don't like to trust many people. To be honest, the few that I trust are Zeke, Orchid, and Elliot. They are the only people in this world that seem to understand why I am agitated to easily.

I think over Elliot and how he'll feel today and try to figure out what I'm feeling about the Reaping.

I realize I'm very nervous and my palms are already starting to dampen. I wipe them on my skirt and go out the door to the downstairs kitchen.

"Orchid! Zeke! What time is it?" I call as I walk down the stairs.

"It's one ten!" Zeke calls back.

I enter the kitchen and sit at the unstable wooden table.

"You should probably start walking now," Orchid says, drying her hands on a towel.

"Aren't you coming, mom?" Zeke asks.

"I am, I'll just be a bit behind you. But you'd best be going now. It's a half-hour walk to the Town Square from here."

We say goodbye, and Zeke and I head out for the Reaping.

"What do you think of the Hunger Games, Mana?" he probes.

I stay silent for a moment, pondering the question. How _do _I feel about the Hunger Games?

"I think it's pretty cruel," I say. "I mean, if you need to punish the districts, why not just have this one time and be done with it you know? I think we've obviously learned our lesson. We've had enough damage done to us."

"I meant the concept of the Games," he elaborates.

"It's nasty," I say.

"Horrifying," Zeke agrees. "How do you think you'd feel if you had to go in?"

"I'd be pretty terrified, that I'll admit," I reply, laughing slightly. "What about you?"

"I'd be so scared to die," he says.

"But you're really fast," I counter. "No one would ever see you coming. You could just grab a knife, zip up behind them, stab them in the back, and run away. No one would notice."

"That's pretty violent," Zeke says. "But I think I'd probably get choked or something."

My mind goes blank as I remember what happened the night my father died.

* * *

_"Dad, what happened?" I yelled, sprinting out of the house. Then I saw what was happening. The Peacekeeper was choking my father. He gasped for air, clawing at the white uniform._

_ "Stop it!" I screamed. "LET HIM GO!"_

_ I ran toward my father, desperately trying to reach him and help him get away._

_ Then a pair of strong arms grabbed me and held me back._

_ "He's getting his punishment, girl," he barked. "He's just killed a man, and killing is punishable by death. He's getting what he deserves."_

_ "NO!" I screeched. "LET MY DADDY GO!"_

_ Then a man pulled something out of a holder and I saw the silhouette of a pistol. My heart beat faster and faster until my mind went crazy._

_ I bit and clawed at the Peacekeeper until he threw me back into the house. The Peacekeeper locked the door. _

_ I tried urgently to yank the door open once more, but it was too late. There was a loud, piercing boom, and then, nothing._

_ I bawled my eyes out that night because I knew my daddy would never come back to me._

* * *

"What did you say?" I say, halting in my tracks. I scowl at the memory of my dad being choked, then shot. I can't stand to hear the flashback Peacekeepers voices and the gasping that came out of my father's mouth.

"I said I'd probably get choked or something," Zeke says, turning around to face me.

"Don't ever say that again!" I yell. "I've seen people choked and it's not something you talk about casually. You hear me, Zeke Flanders?"

"I hear you, Mana," he says soothingly. "Now calm down. Come on. We have to get to the town square, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," I say. All of my anger and bitterness has disappeared and I feel completely normal now.

When we reach the Square, we're amazed at how many people there are. We go check in at the Peacekeeper's desk.

"Next," orders the Peacekeeper, gesturing at my arm. I unknowingly hold it out and she grabs my finger. She pricks my finger and I almost have the same flash back. I stare as she presses the blood to a square in the checkbook and scans it.

"Go on," she commands.

I wait for Zeke and we go to our section together.

"Think anything exciting will happen?" he wonders.

"Other than the drawing of the tribute's names, I highly doubt it," I say.

Then we hear yelling and we look behind us. Two sections away, a fight has broken out between two older teenage boys.

"NO! LET ME AT HIM! YOU'LL PAY, TITUS! JUST YOU WAIT!" I hear one bellow. The dark haired boy is held down by some Peacekeepers as the other is comforted. A single Peacekeeper walks up onstage and talks to a crazily dressed woman.

This woman has ebony black skin hair, and clothes. The only thing colorful is her eyes. They're a bright purple and almost seem to glow. It's quite mesmerizing and I catch myself looking at the light that seems to radiate from them.

The mayor of District 7 walks up to the microphone and welcomes all of us to the first annual Hunger Games reaping. Zeke looks at me and does a funny face that imitates the mayor. I hold in giggles as he reads the Treaty of Treason.

"Hello, District 7! It is an honor to represent you in this first ever Hunger Games! My name is Kashmir Bowl and I'll be your district escort, so I'll show you in the ins and outs of being in the Capitol," says the woman. "Now to start off, we'll draw the girl tribute's name. May the odds be ever in your favor."

Kashmir is very neutral about this whole situation and doesn't seem to be thrilled to be here.

I look at Zeke who nods as if to say, 'it won't be you, so don't worry.'

I squeeze my eyes shut as she plucks a piece of paper from a glass bowl. I keep them shut. I can't bear to see who it will be. I really hope it's not me. I really do. I like my life here in seven and I don't want it to be ruined by the Hunger Games. Besides that, how do I know I can trust Kashmir to lead me in the right direction? Heck, how can I trust anyone in the Capitol?

"Mana Greeves!"

I gulp and open my eyes. Zeke glances at me out of the corner of his eye and nods slightly. I shake my head no and his eyes grow urgent. I have to obey.

I creep forward out of my section and up the steps of the stage. I put my head down and shut my eyes.

_This is all a dream, this is just a dream. You'll wake up and it will be morning. This is just a bad dream. Calm down, you won't end up like father or mother._

"It's great to see you today, Mana," says Kashmir sincerely. "Now it is time for the boys. And we already have a volunteer! Will Brow Ojay please come up onto the stage?"

My eyes snap open as I see the boy who got into the fight sauntering up onto the stage. The lone Peacekeeper...he was the one who told her that he'd be going in!

I gasp as the older boy takes his place next to me. I cover my mouth and glance up at him once. He glares in my direction, then rolls his eyes. His knuckles crack and he rolls one shoulder back, as if bored with this whole situation.

I stand there with confidence... at least I try to. I start getting angrier and angrier with Panem and the world the long I'm up here on this stupid stage. I realize that I'm going to die like father did and I can't let that happen.

I have to win.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this!**

**Okay, so each week, I'm going to announce a new alliance for the Games. And this week, the alliance is: Wryn Linford and Liam Creek!**

**Remember to vote for the victor! (:**


	9. District 8 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 8 Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games!**

**Thanks everyone for voting! (: I'm so excited for the arena it's not even funny! I've already got all the deaths planned out (MWAHAHAHAHAHA!)**

**I am so sorry I didn't get this up in time! Spring break has been a bit hectic for me and you know, I had other stuff to do. I am really sorry! **

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! Let's see if we can get it up past forty, shall we? Remember, one review=new chapter!**

**So I've started yet another HG fanfiction. It's called the Boy with the Bread and the Girl with the Thread. Please go read it! It's not my best writing, but the concept is somewhat interesting. Also, please go read my first fanfiction called Forever Haunted: the Story of the 66****th**** Hunger Games. It's about a girl from District 5. It doesn't get many reviews and only has one follower! It may not be my best, but that's okay. I still love it anyways.**

**A HUGE, GINORMUS thanks to The-Musical-Genius and Grammy01 for these amazing tributes! They have been very interesting to work with...**

**Remember to vote if you haven't already! So far, Kaja is in the lead for the victor with Liam Creek and Aki Chung-Feng tied for second!**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim copyrights to any part of Suzanne Collins's **_**The Hunger Games **_**trilogy.**

* * *

DISTRICT 8

_Josephine Callum, 14 years, District 8_

I braid my caramel-colored hair to the side and smooth down my cotton dress. I turn and pick up my brown sandals. The Reaping is today. I am definitely not looking forward to it.

I first learned of the Games exactly six months ago. I was working my shift in the factory that produces Peacekeeper uniforms when the huge screens flickered to life above the machines. For a few minutes, all was quiet as our world learned of the horror show that was to be deemed the Hunger Games.

I remember the woman a few workers down from me fainted. Someone else started crying and the entire factory went into hysterics. As for me, I couldn't believe my ears. Sure, I knew the Capitol was corrupt and vile, but I did expect them to be so...evil. Honestly, that's the only word I can think of when it comes to that place.

Of course, I've heard the tall tales of people in the Capitol having strange alterations that may be described as evil or even just plain creepy. One rebel veteran even told me once he saw a lady with gills and a fish tail swimming in a large tank and a man with bird feathers on his bare arms. I almost don't believe those stories, but then again, who knows if they might actually be true?

I slip on my shoes and quietly head down the stairs to the front entranceway. Harry and Uncle Patrick are already standing there waiting.

"Sorry," I say. "I should have been down sooner."

"It's alright, Jo, we still have time," says Uncle Patrick cheerfully.

"Daddy, where are we going?" my brother Harry wonders.

"To the Main Town of the district," he replies.

Me and my family live on the left end of District 8. Uncle Patrick helps regulate a factory that's main purpose is to provide Peacekeeper uniforms. I work there every day after school. It's a district requirement.

"How long will it take to get there, Uncle?" I ask as we get into his tiny old car.

"Maybe an hour, an hour and a half at the most," Uncle Patrick says as he buckles Harry's seat belt.

I take the seat in the front of car next to my uncle. He starts the car and off we go, down the dirt path that serves as a road for us.

Harry, who is just seven, and I live with our Uncle Patrick. Uncle Patrick took us in after our parents abandoned us. That was about five years ago when I was just nine and Harry was two. I didn't trust Uncle at first because I had found adults are hard to depend on. Papa and mama told us they would never leave us alone and I didn't want Uncle to do the same thing. Thankfully, Uncle is more like a parent than either of my actual father and mother were. Harry even thinks him to be his papa and calls him 'daddy' instead of Uncle.

I love Uncle Patrick very much and am glad I live with him now. He lets us grow strawberry plants in the sparse backyard and helps us make pies during the summer. He plays with Harry and makes sure I'm doing well in school. These are things neither papa or mama cared about.

As we rattle along down the dusty road, Harry starts to sing the factory song.

_"Skies are not inside the room where we toil and sweat all day,_

_ But do not say we don't enjoy it because it's just our way!_

_ Don't you whine and don't you pout, 'cause we will just endure_

_ The work with fabrics and the thread that we do join for sure!" _

I smile as Uncle Patrick sings along with my brother. I'm not a big singer, so I just sit and listen to the Capitol-influenced lyrics. It's just another contaminated part of District 8, poisoned by Panem's capital city itself. I can bet the Capitol council invented it before the Dark Days.

I watch the landscape as we drive. There are smoldering piles of rubble that used to be factories, many burnt shacks that were once people's homes, a pile of free clean clothes a family is picking through just to find something suitable to wear for the Reaping.

The sight of that family makes me even more sad that the Dark Days ended the way they did. The Capitol is just too powerful for us. The new president, President Snow is too controlling. He was the commander of the Capitol militia before he was president and he knows how to mess with someone's head, especially when it comes to fighting and killing. I think that's what makes me even more sad about the Hunger Games. He most likely invented it himself.

"So how is everything at school, Josephine?" Uncle Patrick inquires, jerking me out of my misery.

"It's fine," I say. "Sports are so much fun."

"That's great. I'm glad you enjoy them," comments Uncle, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Dad, can we make strawberry pies tomorrow to give out to the poor people?" Henry asks loudly in the back seat.

"You have school tomorrow and Jo and I also have work. Maybe next week, okay, Harry?" Uncle Patrick suggests.

"Okay. Why are we going to the Town Square?"

"People have to check in to make sure everyone is okay," I lie. "Somebody will read two names out loud and those people have to leave for a little bit to help out the district."

"Oh," my brother says thoughtfully. "But why?"

To this, I don't have an answer. In a panic, I look to Uncle.

"Well, Harry, sometimes these two people have to go to the Capitol to tell people there about our district. They need to know we're here."

Uncle smiles over at me and I smile back. That's a better solution than what I thought of at first. It's even better than the Games idea.

As soon as we pull up outside the Main Town, I freeze. I don't want to have my name drawn for the Hunger Games. Dying by another teen's hand is not my idea of a peaceful death.

I'm terrfied of being hunted. It's my worst fear. Hunted and killed...

I shudder at the thought of this.

"Are you okay, Jo?" Uncle Patrick wonders.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say.

"Are you scared?" Harry questions.

"A little," I answer truthfully.

"Well don't be, because you'll be okay," my brother says.

"Thanks," I say. "I hope so."

"Come on, let's go get this over with," Uncle Patrick says, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out of the car.

I sigh and do the same.

Harry, Uncle Patrick, and I walk into the people already crowding the streets and squishing close to the Square.

"Josephine, it's too crowded for me and Harry! You'll have to keep on into this sea of people and go to the Reaping. I'm sorry we can't go any further in! You'll just have to go on!" Uncle Patrick raises his voice over the buzz of all the other sounds. "You'll be fine, Jo! We'll meet you here after the Reaping!"

I hug them both goodbye for now and politely push my way to the main part of the Square.

I get in line and check in with the Peacekeepers.

Finger oozing blood, I find my way to the girl's fourteen section and try to stay out of the other girls' way.

I don't have many friends that are girls my age. Most think I'm stuck up or too good to hang out with them because of where I live. My house is on the richer side of Village #3 and most people hate me because of it. I can't help where I'm from, you know?

"Ooh, it's that Callum girl," I hear one girl whisper as I pass.

My anger level cascades, but I just brush past her and move to the far side of the section near the dividing line.

I look around at some of the other girls as I stand there. Are they as terrified as I am? Do they share the same fears? Am I alone in my misery?

"Um, hi," says a voice beside me.

I whip around to find a boy with dark brown hair and dark green eyes staring back at me.

I suddenly feel a bit flustered. I'm not used to talking to boys, let alone anyone at all. And I especially don't know what to say on a day like today.

My palms begin to moisten out of nervousness and because of the humidity in the air. District 8 in early summer...ugh, talk about heat...

"Oh, hello," I reply politely. I turn back to face the large stage and screens that show the crowd of teens waiting to hear who the tributes will be.

"You're Josephine Callum, right?" says the boy.

I turn a bit irritatedly to address the boy.

_I don't want to talk! _I think.

"Yeah, that's me," I say with a slight smile. I go back to looking around. I really don't want to talk to this boy!

"I'm Ned, Ned Stitch. I'm in your year at school in Village #3," he says.

I stop glancing at the crowd and turn slowly to face Ned Stitch.

"O-oh, I remember you," I say. "Nice to finally meet you."

Ned Stitch is a name I wished to forget early on in my life. His parents were friends with papa and mama. They are the ones that encouraged papa and mama to leave me and Harry by ourselves. I've hated Ned ever since. I know he was a part of the plan. I don't remember the details on how, but he wronged Harry and me. I swore never to speak to him. EVER.

"Look, I'm so sorry about what happened when we were kids," he says desperately. His eyes pleading, he grabs the rope with one hand, trying to convince me of his apology. "I never wanted to hurt you. Really, you've got to believe me. I didn't know what had really happened until it was all over. I just want to be friends."

I will never be friends with this boy. Never. I wish he would just stop talking and let me wallow in my fears.

"I wish I could go back in time and convince my parents of why they shouldn't do this to you. I am so sorry, Josephine," he continues. "Do you forgive me?"

Do I forgive him? Ha! How can I? I'm still hurt by just the memory of papa and mama leaving one day and never coming back. Before the Peacekeepers found us, I remember walking by Ned's house and seeing my parents laughing with his. I've hated Ned ever since.

But it was a long time ago...maybe I should just forgive him...

"Possibly," I say. "But you'll have to prove it."

Ned smiles and nods. "I will. I'll be your friend."

Before I can respond, a large chime echoes from the large Justice Building that looms in front.

"Uh oh," mutters Ned.

And for once, I agree with him. I'm not looking forward to this.

The mayor of District 8 walks out onstage and gloomily welcomes us all. He reads the Treaty of Treason and introduces the district escort.

A man with a long, sparkly blue robe and a large, pointy, shimmery silver hat walks out onstage. His long black beard reaches the middle of his stomach. He holds a long rod like a walking stick. It is gold and sparkles even more than his robe. He is obviously a Capitol citizen.

"DISTRICT 8!" he yells dramatically. "I am OZ LICTOR and it gives me great pleasure to represent all of your children in the first annual Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor this day! NOW, when the tributes NAMES are CALLED, they will MOUNT the STAGE and I WILL ASK for VOLUNTEERS! NOW FOR THE DRAWING!"

Wow, this man is loud!

I watch, trembling, as the crazy man draws the piece of paper. I think everyone in District eight's eyes widen as he lifts the paper with his golden stick. It floats in middair and he snatches it up quickly.

_Not Josephine Callum, please not Josephine Callum! _I think. I squeeze my eyes shut and listen intently.

"THREAD KELL!"

Wait, that's not a girl's name!

My eyes fly open as I realize that it's a boy from Village #3! I'm sort of friends with him and his older brother is well known.

My heart pounds and pounds like the big machines at the factory. My brain's gears whir and click as I think frantically.

_Now it's the girl tribute's name, and it won't be me. Please don't let it be me!_

"JOSEPHINE CALLUM!"

My jaw drops open and I gasp as if that crazy dye machine at the factory is squishing me.

It's me...it's me...I'm going into the Hunger Games.

"Josephine," Ned urges. I look at him and he nods forward.

I'll have to go. There's no chance of me not leaving Harry and Uncle. Now I'm going to die.

* * *

The room I'm in is pale pink. The couches are a pale pink silk, the roses in the vases are pale pink, and even the walls are pale pink. It's a lovely color, but doesn't fit the mood of the district. District 8 is mainly industrial. There's almost no grass and no trees. I've never seen a tree. I've heard of them, but never seen one in real life.

But I don't know if I'll ever get a chance to see a tree now. I'm going to die, so when will I have time?

I stand and stare blankly at the door. I don't know what else to do. What can I do? Is there really anything I _can _do other than worry? No.

The door opens and people walk in. I don't know who it is because I'm not paying attention to them. My eyes are fixed on the wall in shock. In misery. In disbelief.

A hand waves in front of my face and my eyes flicker to the person. It's Uncle Patrick, tears in his eyes. Harry tugs on my skirt, crying.

I bend down and hug my brother, but I can't hear his sobs or Uncle's words. It seems like I'm hearing everything through a cement wall. The sounds are only murmurs and white noise.

Uncle Patrick takes my shoulders in his hands and looks me straight in the eye. I can finally hear his voice. "Come on, Jo! Speak or something! You can't zone out like that!"

Suddenly, my emotions click and I start to bawl. Uncle wraps me in another hug as Peacekeepers throw open the double doors.

"Time is up, sir," one says.

Uncle lets me go and I give Harry another squeeze. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Jo. Don't do anything too crazy, okay?"

Too late, Harry. Too late. I'm in the Hunger Games.

My family leaves and I flop down onto the pink silk couch. I curl up into a ball and sob. The tears make little dots on the fabric, like rain on the sidewalk.

"Um, Josephine?"

I look up, eyes puffy, at the person who's just entered. It's Ned Stitch, the one person whom I really do not want to see.

"Get out of here, Ned," I tell him, burying my head back in my arms.

"Please, just let me say what I came here to say," he begs.

"Fine," I say. "Just make it quick."

I sit up and he sits down next to me, a cushion away. He sighs and folds his hands.

"I like you, Jo," he admits.

"Don't call me that. Only Uncle and Harry can call me Jo," I counter. I clumsily wipe away a stray tear. I am determined not to cry in front of him.

"Oh, sorry," he apologizes. He clears his throat and continues. "Anyways, I thought I'd let you know that I think you're wonderful. I've liked you for awhile and I'm sorry I didn't volunteer for Thread. I would have been able to protect and maybe help you out of that arena...but...just promise me something."

"What?"

"Come back alive."

* * *

_Thread Kell, 17 years, District 8_

Denim is almost perfect. How do I know? He's my older brother. He is nineteen years old and loves everyone. Well, pretty much everyone. Little kids love him, adults love him, _girls _love him...It is insane how popular he is among Village #3.

Of course, here in District 8, there are twenty villages, each with its own factory that specializes in different apparels. Village #3 is one of the smallest, and produces Peacekeeper uniforms. Denim and I work there every night from three thirty to six thirty. Denim is known by almost all of the Peacekeepers and most of those who work around us.

Mom isn't thrilled with me being so...average compared to him. At least, that's what I think she feels like. I could be wrong, but she always tells him how proud she is of him and how badly I need to get my grades up. Thanks mom.

Don't get me wrong, my mom is awesome and really nice and all, but I feel a bit...unloved sometimes and not living up to the crazy high expectations set by Denim.

But as I stand here in my section of the Reaping, I wonder how much my brother and mom will care if I'm picked for the Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games are something I'm not really sure I'm fond of. Killing people is just not the way I roll, you know? Not to mention it kind of ruins the life of the person you killed because, well, they're dead now and don't really have a life anymore.

To be honest, I think the Capitol took our revolution a bit too harshly. Yeah, I agree with what the rebels did because the Capitol was too strict with us, but now that the rebellion is over, the strictness level has escalated. Okay, so it's not as bad as it could be. They let us get married to who we want, do what we want when we want, all as long as we go to school and work when we need to.

My family and I live in a little shack on the outskirts of Village #3. I hate how small it is. It's almost too small, even for just the three of us.

My father died in the bombings of our district during the Dark Days. I miss him a lot. Mom wants him back more than anyone. I don't know if Denim does or not. It's hard to tell sometimes.

I watch as the other people file into their sections for the Reaping. A lot look scared or uneasy. I see a few that look pretty confident or neutral about the whole thing.

My friends Vinyl and Sindon start to enter the section and I wave them over. They push through the crowd of guys.

"Hey, Thread," Sindon greets.

"What's up, guys?" I say.

"The sky, Thread. Are you blind?" jokes Vinyl. I chuckle lightly.

"Very funny, Vinyl," I say, patting him on the shoulder.

"So have you told your mom about that _stuff_ yet?" asks Sindon.

"What stuff?" I say, avoiding the question. I don't want to talk about this here...

"You know exactly what we're talking about, Thread!" Vinyl says. "You know what happened a few nights ago!"

"Will you shut up?" I whisper furiously. "There are Peacekeepers everywhere, not to mention other people that would gladly rat us out! Don't mention it again, okay?"

"He's right, we shouldn't talk about it here, Vinyl," Sindon admits. "I don't want to be up on extra hours at the factory."

"It's not like the whole district knows," complains Vinyl.

"They will if you keep shouting about it," I say. "Let's just get through the next hour."

The _incident _is definitely not something I'm proud of. A few nights ago, Vinyl, Sindon, and I along with a couple of other guys decided to play a prank on a few Peacekeepers. Vinyl and Sindon were going to lay down a trap and I was going to rig it. The other guys were just look outs for us. We were going to catch a few Peacekeepers in a net. I don't know what possessed us to be this stupid, but we almost got caught and they're still looking for the culprits, AKA: us.

"Sorry," Vinyl says. "I'll stop."

"We should talk about something else," Sindon says. "How about that new program at school?"

"You mean the sports program?" I say.

"Yeah, that one," Sindon replies.

"I hate those sports," Vinyl complains. "They're so boring."

"Says the guy who is amazing at every single activity he tries," I laugh.

"Quit it!" Sindon says. "Vinyl, if you whine about those sports, your reputation will fall!"

"Oh, that may be true," says Vinyl, nodding.

I do actually have a bit of a reputation to uphold. I'm known as a guy who doesn't care about much and apparently has to be good at sports. I'm actually not much of a school guy and my grades aren't the best. Most people think that I believe I'm too cool for them, but that's not true. I just don't know how to act around others.

"Your reputation as a 'bad boy' may be floundering anyways, Vinyl," I say. "There's a girl who's better than you at sports and is probably the best athlete at school."

"You mean that tall girl in fourth year?" Sindon says.

"That's Josephine Callum, right?" Vinyl says.

"That's her," I confirm. "If she's drawn for the Hunger Games, you'll have to watch out. She's pretty fast and by the way she swings that baseball bat, she has some strength."

Then a bell rings once. That must be the signal for the start of the Reaping.

My moods suddenly all combine and a new feeling enters. It's a mix of anger, dread, and depression. It weighs me down unexpectedly and I can't seem to shake it off.

It's hard to pay attention until a crazily dressed man with a sparkly dress (a _dress_), a tall pointy hat, and a long yellow stick yells into the microphone.

"DISTRICT 8!" he yells dramatically. "I am OZ LICTOR and it gives me great pleasure to represent all of your children in the first annual Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor this day! NOW, when the tributes NAMES are CALLED, they will MOUNT the STAGE and I WILL ASK for VOLUNTEERS! NOW FOR THE DRAWING!"

What the heck is with this guy?

I blink several times, processing what Oz Lictor has just announced.

He walks over to the bowl in his left, levitates a piece of paper with his stick (which sends Vinyl into a series of un-manly giggles for some reason), and smooths it out as he walks back over to the microphone.

"THREAD KELL!"

Wait, what?

I stand there for a moment. Did he really just say Thread Kell? Maybe he read it wrong, or maybe I'm hearing things, or maybe—

"Go on up, bro," whispers Sindon. He nudges me forward and I mount the stage.

"Are there any VOLUNTEERS for this YOUNG MAN?" Oz inquires of the crowd. There are none. I wish there was one. I don't want to have to die. I've been planning what I'm going to do with my life. Actually, the district sort of plans my work, but I had other plans, too. I want to get married. I want to have kids. I want to actually be of some worth next to Denim.

"JOSEPHINE CALLUM!"

My eyes scan the crowd for the fourteen year old. There she is, making her way up onto the stage.

My words come back to haunt me. _If she's drawn for the Hunger Games, you'll have to watch out. She's pretty fast and by the way she swings that baseball bat, she has some strength. _

It's then that I know I better watch my back.

"District 8, here before you are your tributes for the first annual Hunger Games! CONGRATULATIONS!" Oz turns toward Josephine and me. "Now please shake hands."

I turn to Josephine (who is taller than me, sadly) who just stares right past me. We shake hands almost mechanically, her hand barely gripping mine. But that doesn't matter because she'll be the one who kills me. I'm almost sure of it, and I don't know why.

We're lead into the Justice Building and put in separate rooms. Mine is a light pink. I hate the color.

I sit down on the long, cushy sofa and put my face in my hands. What is going on? I can't tell. I feel like I'm living in a dream, a nightmare even, that I'll never wake up from.

I look up as Vinyl and Sindon enter.

We awkwardly say goodbye and they wish me luck in the Games.

Then I get another pair of visitors. Denim and mom.

Mom immediately hugs me tightly as Denim puts a hand on her arm.

"I love you, Thread," she says. "I love you so, so much and I'm truly sorry if I've made you feel inferior to your brother. I never meant to hurt you or cause you any pain. Seriously, after your father died, I didn't know what to do with you. You seemed to purposely cause trouble."

"I know," I say, my voice cracking. "I'm sorry, too, mom. I didn't know how to act after dad died. I promise, I'll return to you, okay? I promise."

She lets go, tears silently streaming down her face. I turn to Denim who actually hugs me for a moment.

When he lets go, his hands grip my shoulders. "Listen to me, Thread. Please, please listen. I know you've always thought I was perfect, but hear me out. I am not perfect in any way. I blubbered like a baby when dad died. Girls who hurt me really do hurt me and I have a really hard time getting over anything. I'm scared for you and just want you to know that I've always been jealous of you. You have it all together, at least it seems like you do. You're relaxed and don't have much to stress about. Not to mention you're good at sports. I'm absolutely horrible. Anyways, the point is I really respect you as a brother and want you to come home."

WHAT? Mind blown...those two words sum that up perfectly. Seriously, MIND BLOWN.

"Thanks, Denim," I say.

I think I have something worth fighting for. Family.

* * *

**I am so sorry this was so late! Hope you enjoyed it! (:**


	10. District 9 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 9 Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games!**

**I am so sorry I haven't updated in so long! I've been super busy with my Narnia stories and with choir and school. Thank you all so much for waiting.**

**Thanks for reading this, guys! (: And thanks to everyone for all the nice reviews! It means so much to have you all tell me that you like this story.**

**Ooh, one last thanks to Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin and Grammy01 for these awesome tributes! (: **

**So last time I updated, I forgot to tell you all an alliance! This week's announced alliance is: Electra Mesa, Maka Kaas, and Mana Greeves! **

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim any copyrights to Suzanne Collins's **_**The Hunger Games.**_

* * *

DISTRICT 9

_Sadie Hawkins, 18 years, District 9_

From the day the Games were announced, I've trained with Blaise. He's a few years older than me and the town blacksmith. He knows his weapons, alright. He probably knows weapons better than anyone else here in District 9.

Few know of my training sessions, but all know why I'm learning. My brother, Basil, was a soldier in the Dark Days. He was shipped off to the Capitol to fight for the rebels. He went missing in action. There was no clear evidence he had been killed, although many referred to him as if he was, and is, dead.

I, however, refuse to believe that he's gone. Most people got notes from the rebels saying that their soldier had died or went missing. We got nothing. Basil just never returned home. I know he's in the Capitol and I'm going to find him, even if it means volunteering for the Games.

Now, don't misjudge me. It's not like I want to learn how to kill a person. It's repulsive and downright horrible to know such things, but if it means finding Basil, then I'll do what I have to just to get him back.

My parents aren't sure they want me to go, but I've assured them that whatever happens, they must move on with their lives and not be too sad. Of course, we're all very sad, but dying is a natural part of life. It's just the way I'll die that is not natural.

Here in nine, we work our behinds off every day just for a meager amount of food and care from the Capitol. The Peacekeepers are very, very strict and we have a specific schedule that everyone must abide to. We wake up around the same time, the children go to school and everyone from ages 18-48 must be out in the fields working the ground for the crops. And after school gets out, all the children, ages 8-17 must come work with us. All the smaller children are sent to a day center where some of the eighteen year olds and oldest people work.

But of course, no matter how hard we work, the Capitol won't give us any more food or clothes. Sometimes our clothes are so tattered, we have to use a few pieces of thick hair as thread. We get sunburned more than most and are only allowed one midday meal at one in the afternoon. Then we don't eat until eight at night.

We're all used to the back-breaking labor by now and try to go about it with cheerful attitudes, although it doesn't always work.

Today is just one of the very few days off we get in a year. Today is Reaping day and nobody is anticipating this event.

The sun shines brightly through the thin windowpane in the bedroom of our shack. I rub my eyes and look around sleepily at the other figures in this small room. It's just my mom and dad, asleep on the larger bed, looking more peaceful than they have in a very long time.

I look at the rusty clock on the wall and find that it's eleven o' clock in the morning. I blink several times just to make sure I've read it correctly. I've never slept in this long before. Maybe that's because I've never had a real day off of work or school before.

On Saturdays and Sundays, we are allowed to sleep in an extra hour and there is no school for the children. But on those days, we all must work, even though we are released from the fields an hour earlier.

I, unfortunately, work in Field #7 on row 17. I have two partners, Cecelia Sorghum and Wheat Albion. They are both in my year and are my friends.

I would rather be working in the day center for the children than plowing fields and planting seeds for corn.

I sigh and stand on our rickety wooden floorboards. Before I have breakfast, I have to do a few chores around the house.

I put on my work clothes and take the big bucket out to the well a quarter-mile away.

As I walk to the well, I pass the nicer part of the district and peer down the dirt roads to the Town Square. I can see workers setting up for the Reaping.

I reach the well and find my friend Wheat, the one I work with, there filling his buckets with water.

"Hey, Wheat," I greet, setting my bucket down and waiting my turn.

"Hey, Sadie," he says. "Ready for the Reaping?"

"I just woke up," I say. "I'm nowhere close to being ready."

"Just don't make a fool of yourself when you volunteer," he teases.

I roll my eyes good-naturedly. "I won't."

Wheat pulls his third bucket from the well and sets it on the ground. He fills the fourth and generously lets me get my water.

"How's Marley?" I ask of his fiancée. "Is she doing better?"

There has recently been an epidemic that has swept quickly through our district. It causes horrible coughing and hacking along with a burning fever and congestion. Panem hasn't had one like this since before the Dark Days.

"Much, thanks for asking," he says cheerfully. "I think she's almost cured."

"Good," I reply. "When are you getting married?"

Wheat sighs. "Hopefully soon. It's hard, you know? Especially with the epidemic just dying down. Lots of the shop owners in town have gotten sick and nobody's been open for weeks. We were originally supposed to get married tomorrow, but I think it's going to be too much for Marley."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I know Blaise hasn't been feeling the best lately, either."

Wheat picks up his buckets and waves goodbye. "See you later."

"Bye," I say as he walks away.

I watch as his tanned arms easily hoist all the buckets of water along. Then I turn and head back to my own shack.

I'm glad I got to talk to someone else who's not happy with this whole Hunger Games dying thing. Hopefully it will be neither of us sent in.

Sometimes I have a hard time expressing my feelings on the outside so I keep them all inside. If I'm angry, I take it all out in training or working in the fields. If I'm sad, I'll clean the shack from top to bottom. And if I'm happy, I'll cook something for dinner so my parents don't have to.

"Good morning, Sadie," mom greets as I walk in with the water.

"Hey, mom," I say. "Do you need me to hang the laundry this morning?"

Mom smiles. "Yes, thank you. That would be nice."

"No problem," I smile.

I set the water down and grab the damp clothing in the basket. I head back outside to our clothesline and start the chore.

I love helping my family. It makes me happy to see my parents appreciate me so much.

As I work, I think of all that will come today. It worries me to see the stage being set up in town. The Hunger Games Reaping will happen in just a few hours. Thank goodness that it's my only year of being eligible. But I'm forgetting something: I'm volunteering.

It's one thirty and my mom and dad and I are just about to leave the house.

It's a warm day and I'm very comfortable in my pale blue shirt and tan skirt. Mother has brushed and braided my short hair. Neither of them know I'm volunteering to find Basil in the Capitol.

We leave the house and make our way to the Town Square. I spot Wheat across the square with his large, large family.

I check in and find my way to the eighteen's section.

I don't see Cecelia so I stand by myself. I don't mind that too much, for I don't like too much company.

Soon, I hear bells going off and see the mayor come to the front of the big stage. Even his clothes are very worn out.

"Welcome, District 9, to our first annual Hunger Games reaping. I will first read the Treaty of Treason, written by President Snow, and then our district escort will the draw the names of our tributes from the glass bowls located on either side of me," he says neutrally. "We will now begin."

I listen in contempt, realizing the real horror of it all. It hadn't exactly sunk in until now, and I realize this nation is corrupt. What is in that new president's head? Why is it he must always resort to some sort of violence?

The longer I stand here, the more angry I get. How can a twelve year old fight an eighteen year old? It's completely unfair!

"And now, please welcome Buzzy Bibs, the Capitol escort," says the mayor.

A chubby, colorful woman stomps out enthusiastically out onto the stage.

"Hhhiiiiii!" she yells in a squeaky voice. "I'm Buzzy and I am so excited to be here!"

I blink several times and step back slightly. This woman is obviously a Capitol citizen. Her skin is black and yellow striped and her eyes are just big black circles. She has little antennae and I can see little white bee wings sticking out of her back. Can she even lift herself off the ground with those?

"I'm going to be your Capitol escort and we will all have so much fun together! So now it's time to draw a little girl's name to be tribute! May the odds be ever in the children's favor!"

I hear her giggling in a high-pitched voice as she digs her yellow and black hand into one of the glass bowls.

I'm so taken aback by her appearance, I'm very surprised to hear the name.

"Clover Stalk."

A girl around fifteen starts to walk forward in fear and I know it's my time.

"I volunteer!" I call. I squeeze my eyes shut and raise my hand.

I hear gasps and a sobbing woman. That must be my mother. My heart breaks as I mount the stage.

"Ooh! This is so cool! We have a volunteer!" squeaks Buzzy. "What's your name?"

"I'm Sadie Hawkins," I say quietly. "I'm eighteen."

"Oh, this will be the best Games EVER!" cries Buzzy, doing a little happy dance. "Now it's time for the boys!"

She runs over, plucks the first slip of paper off the top of the pile, and scurries back to the microphone.

I see Wheat in the crowd, staring up at me in shock.

I avert my eyes and look to my feet. Hot tears are threatening to leak out. Then I wipe them away, remembering why I volunteered in the first place. Basil. My brother. I have to find my brother.

"And the winner, I mean lovely tribute is…Wheat Albi-Alibi-Ablio…" Buzzy struggles with the last name.

I look up immediately and scan the slip of paper in the Capitol woman's hand.

"Albion," I say gently. "It's Wheat Albion."

"Oh," says Buzzy naïvely. "Wheat Albion, you are the boy tribute!"

I don't see Wheat come up onto the stage. I glance beside me and see him staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.

I sigh as Buzzy announces us as the new tributes, then tells us to shake hands.

As Wheat and I shake hands, his sapphire eyes question me. _Why? Why did you do it?_

"I'll tell you later," I whisper.

He nods.

The Peacekeepers usher us inside the stone Justice Building and throw us both in separate rooms.

The door slams shut behind me and I immediately start pacing. A thousand questions cram my mind. Did I do the right thing? Will I really find Basil, or am I just kidding myself?

I heatedly think of the words from the Treaty of Treason. _Each district will offer up one young man and woman as tributes…it will be a fight to the death…the victor will be crowned with riches and glory…district will be honored…privilege to be chosen…_

But is it a privilege? Is it really? Of course not! Killing off children just for entertainment…it makes me sick to my stomach.

I say my goodbyes to my parents. I cry a bit and promise that I'll find Basil.

Blaise comes in and wishes me good luck.

Cecelia even comes to say farewell.

And as Wheat and I bravely board the train, I can't help but say, "We have to stick together. "

"Always," he replies.

"Allies?"

"Allies."

* * *

_Wheat Albion, 18 years, District 8_

I hate the Hunger Games with a burning passion. I must hate it more than anyone in District 9. Maybe even more than anyone in Panem. The Games are cruel and horrible and…it makes me so mad, I don't' even have words to describe how much I loathe them!

I don't understand the mindset of the Capitol. Why would someone want to watch a child die on television? It's nasty, disgusting, and downright despicable. No kid should ever enjoy watching another kid get killed. It's just so wrong.

Having six siblings, it's not hard worrying about them. Of course, Laurel, Rye, and Kern, are the eldest and are the ones who take care of the rest of us, so I shouldn't worry too much about them.

It's definitely hard helping take care of all my younger siblings. There's Nickel and Barley, the fifteen year old twins, and my younger sister, Fern, who just turned sixteen. Laurel is the oldest at twenty eight, and Rye is twenty three while Kern is twenty six. Laurel is our main caretaker since both mom and dad died in the Dark Days war.

We all live in little shacks right next to each other. Nickel, Barley, and Rye live in one while Fern, Kern and his wife, and I live in another. Laurel lives in her own shack because she's married and has a few kids, one is two and the other is five. So you could say I have a big family.

But today is Reaping day and four of us may be sent to the gosh-awful Capitol for the Games.

I wake at about ten thirty and realize that nobody else is up yet. I dress and head over to Marley's house to see how she is doing.

Marley is not only my best friend, but my fiancée. We're both eighteen, which is just the legal age to get married. We didn't want to wait until our twenties because people die early in District 9. Most don't make it past fifty-five because of the work we do.

I carefully tread the steps of Marley's front porch and knock on the door.

"Come on in, Wheat," says Marley's mother. I smile and enter the little house.

"Hello, Mrs. Seed," I greet, giving her a quick hug. "How are you today?"

"I'm just fine," she replies.

My face falls slightly as I think of Marley. "How is she doing?"

"Oh, much _much_ better today," says Mrs. Seed. "You can go on back to her room. She's reading."

"Thanks," I say.

I walk down the miniscule hallway and slip into her room. She looks up as I enter.

"Hey," she says happily.

"Hey," I say.

Marley sits on her made bed, reading a book I know she must have read over a thousand times. I hop onto the bed and sit next to her. She leans against me and I put an arm around her.

"How are you doing?" I ask, concerned.

"I'm not coughing much anymore," she says. "And I'm finally over the stuffy nose and congestion."

"Good," I say. I kiss her quickly and lean back against the wall.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

I think of today and what it will bring. Hopefully, we'll both get off scot free.

"Everything," I groan. "The Reaping is today and I really can't stand the thought of anybody from our district or any district going in. It's torture, Marley! Making children hunt each other down and eliminate one another? It makes me want to cry."

She hugs me tightly. "Just relax, okay? You're going to be fine. I'm scared, too. I've never worked in the fields in my life and don't have one bit of muscle. I couldn't protect myself from anyone."

"Oh, please," I say. "If you're picked, I'm volunteering for the guy tribute and I won't let you leave my side. I'll protect you."

"Really?"

"Really."

We sit and talk for another half-hour when I realize I have to be getting home to my family for morning chores and to get ready for the Reaping.

I kiss Marley goodbye and leave.

I grab the buckets from outside my family's houses and head to the big well a quarter-mile away. Just as I'm starting to fill the buckets, one of my friends appears.

It's Sadie Hawkins, the blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl I work with out in the fields. She is one of the kindest people I know other than Marley and Mrs. Seed. She's not afraid to joke around when needed, and is more humble than most people in this world.

"Hey, Wheat," she says.

"Hey, Sadie," I reply. "Ready for the Reaping?"

"I just woke up. I'm nowhere close to being ready," she says, rolling her eyes in frustration.

We exchange cheerful banter, knowing we'll see each other at the Reaping.

I leave, worrying about her well-being today.

Sadie is a very nice person and loves her family more than anything. The town blacksmith, Blaise Nightwing, a friend of mine, has been training her to handle weapons. You see, Sadie is volunteering for the Games. Her brother, Basil Hawkins, was lost to the Capitol during the Dark Days. Nobody knows if he's alive or dead and Sadie has made it her goal to find him while getting ready to enter the Hunger Games. She almost seems fine with the idea of dying, even if she does or doesn't find Basil.

I go home and my family and I get ready for the Reaping.

A half-hour after saying goodbye to my siblings, checking in with the Peacekeepers, and finding where my section was, the Justice Building bells begin to chime. That's the signal for the Reaping to begin.

The mayor reads the Treaty of Treason and our district escort floats out onto the stage. Her name is Buzzy Bibs and I can already tell she'll be quite annoying.

She skips over to one bowl, digs around for the right slip of paper, and skips back to the front.

"Clover Stalk," she announces in a chipmunk-squeak voice.

A nervous, younger teenage girl begins to move forward.

_Don't worry, _I think. _You're not going into the Games._

"I volunteer!" I hear Sadie shout nearby. I clench my jaw as she walks up to the stage.

"Ooh! This is so cool! We have a volunteer! What's your name?" Buzzy says excitedly, shoving the equipment in Sadie's face.

"Sadie Hawkins. I'm eighteen," says Sadie bravely.

"Oh, this will be the best Games EVER!" cries Buzzy, doing a little happy dance. "Now it's time for the boys!"

I hold my breath as Buzzy quickly grabs a slip of paper from the top.

_Only seven names, _I think. _My name is only in the bowl seven times. Only seven. Just calm down, it won't be you and it won't be Nickel or Barley. You'll be okay, they'll be okay, just don't panic if your name is—_

"Wheat Albi-Alibi-Ablio…" Buzzy turns the paper upside down, sideways, and flips it to make sure she's read it correctly.

_Wheat Albion, _I think. _That's me. That's me._

My breathing becomes shallower and I grit my teeth to stop. I shakily mount the stage and stand next to Sadie. I hold my breath to stop myself from hyperventilating.

I am going to die.

* * *

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	11. District 10 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 10 reaping of the First Annual Hunger Games!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! (:**

**Big thanks to snellthesnail and mandymonkey88 for these strange but interesting tributes! This chapter may be a bit shorter than others because I had to finish it sort of quickly. I'm sorry for being late! **

**Remember, TWO reviews=new chapter!**

**Alliance: Ivory Spindel, Brow Ojay, Narcissus Brone, and Aki Chung-Feng.**

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**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim any copyrights to Suzanne Collins' ideas of the Hunger Games or any references to her characters.**

* * *

DISTRICT 10

_Feven Piers, 14 years, District 10_

I sit on my bed, trying not to hyperventilate.

_I don't want to die! I don't want to die! _I think.

I can feel my heartbeat speeding up. It happens every time I get scared. And I get scared a lot.

I squeeze my eyes shut and two tears drip out. I clench my blankets in fear. I don't want to go to the Reaping today. I can't. I won't. My parents can't make me!

Ever since the Hunger Games were announced, I've been crying my eyes out each night. I don't want to be picked! I don't want to die painfully! I can't die yet!

But nothing can save me from being picked unless somebody volunteers for me. Oh, gosh, I hope that doesn't happen either!

My stomach grumbles and I groan. I feel so sick.

My lunch decides to make a reappearance as I run to the bathroom.

Am I really this scared? YES!

I finish my retching and slump down next to the sink.

Tears start to run down my face as I realize I may never come back to my own house. I may never see those fat cows in our fields again. I may never see my parents again!

I bawl my eyes out right there.

I hear a soft knocking at my door. It's dad.

"Come on, Feven," he says. "It's time to go."

I gasp, immediately making my tears stop flowing. I lock the door and sit back down on the floor.

"I'm not going," I refuse. "I am scared and you can't make me!"

Dad sighs. "Feven, you can't do this today. We can't _not _go! The Peacekeepers will come get you themselves if you don't show your face."

I gasp again, unlock the door, and throw it open, almost hitting dad in the face. "Are you serious?"

I am terrified of Peacekeepers! They have guns and they're not nice. They just care about the money we make for them and enforcing laws. They're mean, mean people from the Capitol! And they wear all white, which reminds me of cows. I'm scared of cows, too!

"Yes, I'm serious," dad replies.

"But I don't want to go! I'm going to die, dad!" I start to cry again.

Dad hugs me tightly. "Feven, we won't let you die, okay? I promise, we'll make sure it doesn't happen."

"Really?" I sob.

"We'll try our best," he says.

I wipe my eyes. "I'm still not going."

"Yes, you are," mom says, entering the living room. "Now let's go! We're going to be late."

I take one glance at mom and dad and try to dart into the bathroom again. But dad grabs my arm and pulls me back.

"NO!" I scream. "I'm…not…GOING!"

Dad carries me outside. I claw at doorframes and scratch at walls. I can't go! They don't understand me! I'm too afraid!

Dad puts me in the front seat of the wagon and holds me there until mom climbs up. The horses are already reigned and ready to go. But I'm not ready. I'll never be ready.

"EEEEEEKK!" I scream. "Dad! You know I don't like horses!"

"They're not going to hurt you, sweetie," he says.

I back up as far as I can in my seat. Horses have these huge teeth that could easily chomp off your fingers. Why would anyone want to go near them? They're ugly and creepy!

"Calm down, Feven," mom says as we start off down the dirt road.

"But, but I—I don't want t-to go!" I sob again.

"We're going to have to," says mom.

"There's no way I am going anywhere near those Peacekeepers!" I cry.

"You're going to have to," dad says gently. "And after it's all over, I promise, we'll come straight home."

I stop struggling and close my eyes for a moment as to not see the cows in the pasture. "Okay."

I open my eyes when we reach the capital city of District 10. It's the Main Town of our district. I can see the dome of the new Justice Building arching threateningly above the short, square town buildings.

My eyes widen to the side of dinner plates as I realize where we are.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," I whisper. "Oh, please no!"

Mom stops our horses right outside the square in a field and my parents both hop off the wagon. I clutch the side and dig my fingernails into the wood. I am _not _leaving this wagon!

"Get down, Feven," mom says. She cocks her eyebrow at me, something she only does when she starts to get irritated. "I said get down." I shake my head fervently. "Get down. Now."

She points down at the ground and crosses her arms.

A few tears slip down my cheeks and I swallow the lump in my throat.

I slowly descend the short drop from the wagon. Did I mention I'm scared of heights, too?

"Come on," dad says, pushing me along gently towards the square.

I try to walk as slow as possible without making my parents even more frustrated with me. But to be honest, I really don't care about them getting mad. I just don't want to be here!

I spot the line for the check-in table and try to relax.

_It's just a line…a line full of teenage boys that might be mean to me! But maybe they won't because it's Reaping day…_

But then I see how they check you in. Blood.

"No way am I doing this! Please take me home! I want to go home!" I cry, more tears leaking out of my eyes. "I don't want to get hurt! I don't want to get hurt!"

I cling tightly to mom. Maybe they'll let me stay with them if I don't let go!

Mom pries me off of her and points to the table. "Go line up. We'll be right here when it's all over. You come find us immediately, okay?"

I nod, then I slowly tread to the line for the check in table.

When it's my turn, I don't go forward quickly.

"Next," says the Peacekeeper at the table. I take a step towards the table.

"_Next," _the Peacekeeper spits again.

The Peacekeeper on the side tugs me over to the table. The one sitting behind the table reaches across and grabs my arm. Roughly taking a finger and stabbing it with a poky machine.

"Ow!" I cry. Fresh tears spring up in my eyes.

The Peacekeeper slams my blood into a notebook, scans it, and pushes me away.

"What a baby," she mumbles.

I look at my finger. There is a bright red bead of blood. I hold it away from me and grimace. Blood is so gross! It makes me sick to my stomach!

I nervously find my section and try to make myself blend into the very middle. If there's one thing I'm not afraid of, it's crowds. I'm scared of lots of other things, just not crowds. I think maybe because they protect me and let me blend in. I can sit in the middle of a standing crowd and no one will be able to spot me. It's almost comforting.

Then a bell chimes, making me jump about three feet into the air.

I swallow another lump in my throat as the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason and introduces Plato Evin, the district escort.

I don't like the way Plato looks. It's menacing. He's shiny and silver and has bright blue hair and dark purple tattoos around his eyes.

"Welcome to the Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games!" he says cheerily. "Thank you all for showing. Now let us find out who the female tribute for District 10 will be. May the odds be ever in your favor, whoever you are!"

More tears come as he draws the name from the bowl on his right.

I start to hyperventilate as he walks back to the microphone.

"Feven Piers," he announces.

I gasp and kneel down in the crowd of girls. If I don't show my face, I won't have to go! I silently cry and hold my head in my hands.

"Feven Piers? Please come up onto the stage," announces Plato.

I shake my head and try to calm myself down, but I start to hyperventilate instead. The world turns a bit blurry as the girls around me suddenly part.

I realize that I am now visible to Plato onstage and he points me out.

My knees shake in fear and anxiety.

"Are you Feven?" Plato asks nicely.

I stand and nod shakily, tears streaming down my face.

"Please come on up, Feven," says Plato. "I'm sure you don't want the Peacekeepers bringing you up here."

I shake my head and start to cry harder. I try to take a deep breath, but end up not being able to breathe.

I gasp for air and take one step forward.

Spots show in my eyes and suddenly, as all sounds of people's voices fade, the world turns black.

* * *

_Dustin Brand, 17 years, District 10_

I don't know how Angie does it all, but I'm proud to call her my sister. She's hard-working and never stops caring for those kids.

Angie and I live in a foster house with ten other kids. The oldest is just fifteen, two years younger than me. The youngest is four years old. I honestly am amazed at her skill. How can she take care of all of these children by herself for most of the day?

I am usually at my apprenticeship at the butchers. It's an important job here in District 10. Our industry is livestock so I work in a butcher shop in the richer part of town. I started there a few years ago, when I was fourteen.

There's not a big liking of the Hunger Games in District 10. Who would like it in the first place? It's kids killing each other on reality television. I don't know about you, but that seems a bit…harsh.

"Dustin! Dustin!" I hear someone call.

"What's up, Angie?" I yell back.

"Get down here! I need your help with the kids!"

I sigh and finish buttoning my fading white shirt.

Oh, yeah…the Reaping is today. For the Hunger Games. Just another reminder of the cruelty that is to come.

I scramble down the stairs and down into the small foyer. All of the kids are crammed in by the door. They talk quietly among themselves. Angie stands amongst them all, waiting impatiently for me.

"What?" I ask her. "Don't look at me like that! I was trying to finish getting ready for the Reaping."

"Mm hm," she says, unconvinced. She turns to all the kids. "Alright, guys, time to go." She points to the youngest of them all. "Jonathan, you stay with me. Oh, Liesel, could you hold on to Odette and Benji, please?"

The ten year old Liesel nods and takes the five-year old twins' hands.

I open the door for them all. "All right, troops! Time to head out!"

A few of the older ones, like the twelve year olds Andrew and Delia, chuckle at the comment. Angie gives me a look that says, _come on, Dustin, really?_

Clover, the fifteen year old girl, files out last. "Thanks."

"No problem," I smile.

Clover and I get along the best out of any of the kids. She's just about to turn sixteen and can't help but stick with me most of the time. She's only two years younger and is like my little sister.

We walk along together, just talking.

"Hey, Dustin?" she says.

"What's up?"

"Well, duh, the sky! But…do you think I'm going to be picked for the Reaping?" Clover wonders.

I tense up for a moment. That's my fear right now. Getting picked for the Hunger Games. I don't want to die. What would Angie do without me? I usually do the chores around the house for her so she can take care of the kids. Heck, what would the kids do without me? I'm the one who always jokes around with them.

"Y-you're not going to be picked, Clover," I reply, swallowing my fear for the moment.

"Okay," she says, breathing a sigh of relief.

I pat her arm. "Hey, you'll be fine."

When we reach the outside of the square, Angie stops us and lines the kids up in order by age.

"Alright," she starts, "Jonathan, Odette, Benji, Kitty, Tom, and Liesel, you are coming with me. The rest of you will go with Dustin to check in." She gives each of the older ones a hug. "Keep your mind wide open for the best possible result if you're picked okay? I promise you, we'll do everything in our power to make sure you're not in the Games."

Which is no power at all. We don't decide their fate! Only the drawing does.

My older sister and all of the ineligible kids walk away and I stand in front of the older four.

"Andrew, Delia, Patrick, Clover…" I begin. "The first thing we're going to do is check in with the Peacekeepers, so please be on your best behavior. I know this is a nerve-wracking day, but you must obey the Peacekeepers. After you check in, go find your section to stand in, okay? Fall out, troops!"

I laugh a little, trying to lighten the mood. They walk glumly towards the check-in lines. Okay, maybe the time wasn't right for my 'fall out, troops!' saying, but I was trying to help them feel better.

I follow Clover to the check-in line.

After that's all done with, I find my place in my section. Some of the guys around me joke around and some stare straight ahead in fear.

I wish I could be like the other guys laughing, but I can't. I don't feel so good anymore. My stomach feels a bit sick and it feels much warmer out than it did before.

I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. I'm sweating more than I should, too.

I hear a short DING DONG DING and the mayor strides out onstage.

"Good afternoon, District 10, and welcome to our first ever Hunger Games Reaping. Today we will be drawing the names of our female and male tributes. If your name is called, we ask that you proceed forward the stage. If there are any volunteers, please raise your hand after the name has been called. But before that, I will be reading the new Treaty of Treason. Let us begin," says the mayor.

I don't want to listen to the Treaty. It makes my knees tremble with anger. I can't believe our president would do this to us. I'm almost shocked the world has become what it is. I hate Panem…

"Let me gladly introduce our district escort, Plato Evin!"

A silvery man comes out onstage. He is literally all colored silver, except for his dark blue hair. Around his eyes are shockingly bright, purple tattoos. They swirl and jet out from his eyelids and wrap all the way down to his cheek. It makes me grimace when I see him.

"Welcome to the Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games!" he says cheerily. "Thank you all for showing. Now let us find out who the female tribute for District 10 will be. May the odds be ever in your favor, whoever you are!"

I gulp and cross my fingers as he picks the name from the bowl.

_Please not Clover or Delia! Please not Clover or Delia! _I think nervously.

I bite my lip as he reads the name.

"Feven Piers."

I let out a shaky breath. Thank goodness!

We look around for a girl going up onto the stage, but no one goes forth.

"Feven Piers?" calls Plato gently. "Please come up onto the stage."

There is a bit of confusion it seems is taking place in one section, and Plato points to a girl.

"Are you Feven?" asks the escort.

I see a small girl stand and nod slightly.

"Please come on up, Feven," says Plato. "I'm sure you don't want the Peacekeepers bringing you up here."

Feven takes one step forward and collapses, people gasping and yelling in shock.

I blink several times in disbelief as the Peacekeepers carry her up onto the stage. I can hear a woman shouting from the behind the children.

"NO! NO! DON'T TAKE HER! THAT'S MY DAUGHTER!"

She wails as Peacekeepers drag her away. She flails and tries to escape their grasp. But she won't be able to see her daughter now.

"Um, okay…now that that little…event is over with, I will proceed with the announcing the boy's name," says Plato.

My hands start shaking again and I can't breathe as the name is announced.

"Dustin Brand."

I seize up and get a cramp in my calf. But I shake it off and ignore the pain. I'm sure I'll feel pain much worse than this once I'm in the arena. I've got to be strong now or I won't be strong then.

I carefully go up onto the stage.

Plato thanks the crowd for coming and dismisses them.

Peacekeepers shove me into a room in the Justice Building and slam the door in my face.

I stand with my back to the door, not really seeing where I am. Images just flash through my mind, making them appear right here in this room. I see Feven fainting, I hear her mother screaming in protest, I hear my name being called for the Hunger Games…

I pick up a vase and throw it against the wall in anger.

_It HAD to be me! _I think, scowling. _Right when I am at the point where I can't afford to leave Angie and the kids! I'm going to DIE and I don't know what the heck I'm going to do for a weapon!_

I sit on the edge of the couch, wondering what the heck I'm going to do.

Then I hear a scuffle outside the door and shouting.

"These are all my kids!" I hear a muffled female voice call. "They will say goodbye to him whether you like it or not!"

Then Angie and all of the kids burst through the door.

Clover charges at me and hugs me tightly, sobbing her eyes out.

"Don't leave me!" she cries. "Please don't leave me!"

I hug her back and whisper. "Shhhh, Clover…calm down. I'll be okay. I promise to come back to you."

"Really, truly promise?" she asks.

"Really, truly promise," I confirm. "You're like a little sister to me and I don't lie to family."

She nods and lets go.

I say goodbye to all of the littler kids who have no idea what's going on.

Then it's Angie's turn to say goodbye. She hugs me tightly.

"Listen to me closely, Dustin," she says in my ear. "You fight the hardest you can. If you have to kill somebody, then kill somebody. But promise me you won't change."

"Angie, I can't promise that," I say. "Who knows what I'll see in there."

"Well try not to change, okay? And you're a butcher's apprentice, so you know how to get food and use knives. If you're allowed a weapon, grab knives. And please, I'm begging you, don't die."

"I can't promise that either, but believe me, I'll try."

Then the Peacekeepers kick them all out of the room, leaving me alone. And that's probably how I'll die. Sad and alone in the arena.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed it! Two reviews=**

**new chapter! (:**


	12. District 11 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 11 Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games!**

**It's been hard to focus on this one because I just really want to get to the Capitol already! But thank goodness that after this one, there's only one left! (:**

**So this time I have to thank The-Musical-Genius! This incredible author has created these two incredible characters that I'm sure you'll find intriguing! ENJOY!**

**And this announced alliance is: Ash Trellis, Penny Cooper, and Ethan Pearson! This one alliance will be extremely important so always ALWAYS keep your eyes open for their interactions with each other.**

**Remember, 2 reviews=another chapter! Sorry if this one's a bit shorter than the others. I'm not going to have time to update tomorrow, so I'm updating today!**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim any copyrights to Suzanne Collins' **_**The Hunger Games.**_

* * *

DISTRICT 11

_Ethan Pearson, 17 years, District 11_

"Look, I won't let anyone take you away, okay?"

Georgia nods and scoots closer to me. She's only seven and doesn't understand that the Hunger Games are only for older kids.

"I won't allow the Peacekeepers to get to you, Georgie," I say. "Don't you worry one bit. Your name won't be drawn this year. I promise."

"How do you know?" she pouts.

"Because I do," I say. "Now you go play with your brother."

"Okay," she agrees. She slides off my lap and scurries off down the hallway.

"Hey."

I look over to the other doorway. Penny stands there in a faded gray dress and sandals.

"Hey," I smile.

She walks over and sits next to me on the lumpy sofa.

"Was that Georgia I heard you talking to?" she asks.

"Yeah," I reply, putting my arm around her. "She was worried she might be picked for the Hunger Games."

Penny laughs. "Seriously? She's seven! She won't be picked."

"That's what I told her," I say.

"Does she still think her name will be drawn?"

"Yeah. She has a hard time understanding certain situations such as this one. She doesn't really grasp the concept of age."

Penny laughs harder, almost meanly. "That's hilarious!"

_Hilarious? _I think. _Penny, why are you like this now? I don't understand why you've changed so much!_

"Don't you think that's sort of mean?" I defend. "She's a little kid. I'll bet you and I were the same way when we were that age."

Penny stops laughing and considers what I've just said.

"I guess it is sort of mean," she says. "But she's not here to hear it, so why does it matter?"

I frown. It matters a lot!

"Because—"

"No, no, no, no, Ethan," Penny shushes, holding up her hand. "Enough of your chatting. You have to go home and get ready for the Reaping."

I guess that her cutting me off for things such as this get a bit annoying after a while, but I love her, so I have to accept that she does this. Being in a relationship means accepting each other's flaws, right?

"Alright," I give in. "See you later?"

"Yeah," she replies.

We stand and she gives me a kiss.

"See you later," I say, exiting.

I close the door softly behind me and start walking home in the heat. It must be at least 90 degrees this morning! But that's the norm in District 11. We start wearing shorts in March and keep on wearing them until the middle of November.

As I tread home, I see the empty orchards and fields. Today is not your average day. The Reaping for the 1st Annual Hunger Games is today and I am not looking forward to it.

I was out working in the vegetable patches when the Peacekeepers aired the audio from President Snow's announcement over the intercom. There's one speaker for each field or orchard. They're very, very loud and usually scare the heck out of people when it first comes on.

Anyways, so I was tending to a vegetable patch when I heard the announcement. A couple women nearby fainted and many started crying. I had to sit down right there in the clay that we call dirt because my knees were about to give out.

I couldn't believe my ears. There's no doubt that this was concocted by the most horrid man in Panem: President Snow. He's very young, only about nineteen or twenty from what I've heard, and he's already planning children's deaths? How did he think of this?

Questions bounced around in my head for a long time. While I worked, I tried to calm my mind, but I couldn't. The news didn't settle in for a long time. I think it still hasn't soaked through. The Captiol is taking teens from their homes and making them kill each other in a sort of large cage.

I open the door to my home and go inside. "Mom! I'm back!"

"Hi, Ethan!" I hear her say. "How was Penny?"

"She was fine," I tell her. "She's just bracing herself for the Reaping."

And by bracing herself, I mean laughing about it like it's nothing.

"Oh, good."

I spot mom coming down stairs and she stops near the bottom step. "You aren't dressed yet?"

"Well, no, not yet, but—"

"No, no, no," mom cuts me off. "Go upstairs and get on your Reaping clothes."

"Alright, mom," I reply. I give her a hug before I go upstairs.

I close the door to my room quietly. I sigh and look in my drawers for my nicest clothes. I dig around until I find the faded brown shirt and my least worn out jeans.

As I change, I wonder what will take place during the Reaping.

_I really hope that I'm not picked, _I think.

I swallow a nervous lump in my throat and finish getting dressed. I take a comb to my ever-curly caramel-colored hair.

Finally, I'm ready! I feel like it takes me forever!

Mom and I head off to the Reaping, thinking of how my brother must be feeling now.

My brother's name is Kenny and he's twenty three years old. I haven't seen him in three and a half years. The reason? He's in prison.

When Kenny was seventeen, he got involved in some of the rough people of District 11. They had been growing illegal drugs in a secret location out in a clearing outside the district fence. He was put on parole for illegal drug possession by the Peacekeepers, who cleverly followed him to the plant site.

But then he decided to be stupid again and broke parole two years later for the same felony: drug possession. Drugs are highly illegal here in eleven. They affect our brains in weird ways and prevent us from working as normal citizens. Kenny was sentenced to six to ten years in the District 11 jail. He's allowed no visitors.

Sometimes I wonder if he knows about the announcement of the Games. Does he know his little brother may be killed in an arena by a weapon of another teenager?

I scan the faces of the crowd for Penny while standing in the check-in line. Usually, her hair sticks out like a sore thumb.

Finally, I spot her fiery red hair and gesture her over.

We both check-in and go into our section.

Penny grips my hand loosely, as if she's not worried about the outcome of the drawing of the names.

"H-hey, Penny?" I say nervously.

"What?" she replies, seemingly bored.

"Are you anxious to hear who's going into the Games?"

She laughs lightly. "Of course not! Why should I? It's obviously not going to be me, so why worry? There's no point!"

"You don't know if you're not being picked," I argue. Penny frowns at me.

"What's got your branches in a knot?" she asks. "Trust me, I've got this all under control. And even if my name is called, which it won't be, then I'm going to win."

Suddenly, the bells in the Justice Building tower ring and the mayor walks out onto the stage. She tells us about the Reaping and reads the Treaty of Treason.

I squeeze Penny's hand a bit tighter and clench my teeth.

_Keep calm, _I think. _I know I hate this whole ordeal, I have to stay quiet and calm. Terrible things could happen if I don't._

"Hi, District 11! What's up?"

I pull myself out of my mind and look up at the stage. A large (and by large I mean LARGE) man is up there at the microphone. He's wearing a flamboyantly colored shirt (pink and orange paisley) and metallic purple pants. His skin is light orange and his hair is completely green. He reminds me of something my mother told me about. They were characters from this pre-Panem book called…what was it? Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? I think the orange things were called Oompa-Loopas or something. They were described to have green hair and orange skin.

"So I'm Choco Man, your district escort," he says glumly, taking a bite of what looks like a meat sandwich. "I'm gonna choose the name of the girl tribute for the Hunger Games now."

He slumps disgustingly over to a glass bowl filled with slips of paper, takes the first paper off the top, and crumples it in his fat fist. He waddles over to the microphone and says the name.

"Penny Cooper."

WHAT?

* * *

_Penny Cooper, 16 years, District 11_

After Ethan leaves, I go back up to my room and lay on my bed.

_What am I doing here? _I think. _This is a pathetic orphanage! I don't belong here! I belong in a better house, a better family, a better district…I'm too good for my boyfriend, too!_

And it's true. Ethan's definitely good enough for me in looks, but in personality, he lacks a little…pizzazz. He's too sweet and nice to others. If you don't like them, let them know! It's better than sitting back and having someone you don't like try to be your friend! Thankfully, most people here in District 11 seem to like me.

"Isis!" I yell. "Bring me some food!"

Isis is my good-girl older sister. She's kind and caring and loving. Everything I'm not. And I hate her for it.

"Penny, I'm a little busy right now!" she calls back. "Could you please get yourself some food? And besides, it's almost time for us to head to the Reaping!"

I groan. Why do I even have to go to this crazy Reaping? I know for sure it's not going to be me, so why attend in the first place?

"Whatever," I yell back.

I wish I could just live with Ethan and his family, but that's not allowed here in District 11. I hate this district so much!

I realize I should probably head to the Reaping now just to get it over with. It's already two forty eight, so I need to get going if I'm going to go.

I stomp down the stairs and shout to my sister. "Bye! I'm leaving!"

"Wait, Penny, I—"

But I don't stick around to hear what my sister has to say. I slam the door and stride over to the town square.

I walk over to the check-in table and see Ethan waving me over.

"Hi," I say as I enter the line.

"Hey," he replies. "Ready for this?"

"Of course," I scoff.

We check-in with the Peacekeepers and find our sections. I'm diagonal to Ethan, but we hold hands over the dividing ropes. We don't talk much.

Ethan finally speaks.

"H-hey, Penny?"

"What?" I reply. What stupid question does he want to ask me?

"Are you anxious to hear who's going into the Games?"

I laugh at his inquiry. "Of course not! Why should I? It's obviously not going to be me, so why worry? There's no point!"

"You don't know if you're not being picked," he argues.

Why is he so on edge today? What is his problem?

"What's got your branches in a knot?" I quiz him. "Trust me, I've got this all under control. And even if my name is called, which it won't be, then I'm going to win."

Don't get me wrong from the way I treat Ethan. I really do love him. He's kind to me and never has looked at another girl while we've been dating.

Bells chime and our mayor walks out onto the stage.

"Welcome, District 11, to our first ever Hunger Games Reaping. Today, two names will be called, one male and one female. These tributes will represent our district in the Capitol and in the arena. We ask that once your name is called, you proceed to the front and mount the stage. But first, we shall listen to me read the Treaty of Treason," she announces.

I don't even listen to the Treaty, as I'm not going into the Games.

Then, after the reading is done, this disgusting man comes out onto the stage and says his name is Choco Man. Was kind of name is that? I don't think that's even a name. And he's really, really big, as in fat! I almost laugh at his size, but realize that a lot of people would think I'm crazy for laughing at such a time, so I keep my mouth shut.

"Penny Cooper."

I freeze once the words are out of Choco Man's mouth.

Penny Cooper? That's me!

I just shrug and let go of Ethan's hand. I go up onto the stage and cross my arms. I am so going to win!

Then the boy's name is called.

"Ethan Pearson."

At this, I can't help but be shocked. What are the odds of this? Then I look at the paper Choco Man is holding.

_Brian Core._

Ethan's name is not on the paper. Ethan is not the tribute.

This is a set-up.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it! ;)**

**Two reviews=new chapter!**


	13. District 12 Reaping

**Welcome to the District 12 Reaping of the first annual Hunger Games!**

**Thanks for joining me for they VERY LAST reaping! Thank goodness they are done and over with! I don't know about you all, but I am so ready to move on to the train rides and the Capitol! I have many exciting things planned!**

**So this week, I must thank mandymonkey88 for both of these interesting tributes. Just wait until you see the cast members that are playing these characters in the movie! So just as an update, I am still working on the script and we should start filming in a couple weeks! I'm so excited! (:**

**This week's announced alliance is Derek James Martins, Matthew Harrington, and Josephine Callum. Did I already announce that one? I don't know...**

**Sorry if this Reaping is a bit shorter than the others. It's later than I usually type and I've got SATs tomorrow so I'm super nervous!**

**Enjoy the story! TWO reviews=new chapter! Make sure to pay close attention to this Reaping!**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim copyrights to any of Suzanne Collins' brilliant Hunger Games characters or ideas.**

* * *

DISTRICT 12

_River Sands, 15 years, District 12_

Nothing. Sometimes that's how others see me. As nothing. But their opinions don't matter to me. Consider the source as my friend Lewis would say. And Lewis is the only friend I really have. It doesn't bother me when others say I'm strange or stupid because I know I'm not. And if you know you're not what others call you, why should what they say matter?

District 12 isn't my ideal home. I used to live in District 3. But that was before the Dark Days. Before my parents disappeared on the journey over.

District 3 was the heart of the rebellion during the Dark Days. The rebel headquarters were hidden away from the prying eyes of Capitol Peacekeepers. My house, to be exact, was just that place. After the bombs began to drop, my parents, the rebel leaders, decided to flee. We decided we needed to escape to a place where no one would ever guess the leaders would go. District 12. It was a fairly small district from what we had heard. Dad thought it was the best choice for us. Obviously it wasn't.

My parents disappeared on the journey over. I just woke up one morning in the woods to find them gone. I called for them. I searched far and wide. I couldn't find them anywhere. Their packs were still there. I found my dad's secret map and continued my way here to District 12.

Most District 12 citizens assumed I was a Seam child refugee and a nice woman named Eleanor Dark took me home. I've ended up living with them ever since. Lewis Dark, her son, has become my good friend. But I'm not known as River Sands. I'm known as Ian Dark, fraternal twin of Lewis Dark.

If the Peacekeepers found out I wasn't the real son of Eleanor and Kurt, I'd probably be sentenced to death or something worse. I'd probably be sent back to my district or made into an Avox in the Capitol.

So now I live with a fake identity. Ian Dark. My back story? I was in the orphanage up until the middle of the war, found out to be the long lost son of the Darks. Lewis, in reality, really did have a twin, but he died minutes after arriving into the world.

Nobody except Eleanor, Kurt, and Lewis know I'm actually River. Demetra, Lewis' little sister, believes that I'm actually her big brother. She has no idea that I'm not Ian.

But I've grown accustomed to the name Ian. People at school call me Ian. People in town call me Ian. Even Eleanor, Kurt, and Lewis call me Ian. River Sands is lost. River Sands is nothing.

I am presently standing in line to check into the Reaping. Other boys and girls my age crowd around me, hoping to just get this torturous event over with.

Mitch Bloom, the oldest boy in my year, bumps into me.

"Watch where you're going, Dark #2," he barks. "You're in my way."

_You're in everyone's way, Mitch. Get out of here. Go die in a hole, _I think confidently. But I would never say it aloud. Instead, I roll my eyes and let him past.

He's one of the Merchant kids who insists he's better than everyone else.

"Leave him alone, Mitch. He didn't do anything to you," Lewis says.

"Lewis," I hiss. "Quit it. Don't get on his last nerve."

"You want to prove it, Dark #1?" Mitch taunts.

"The only way you could prove that Ian didn't do anything to you is by looking at him and looking at you," Lewis says. "You're much taller and stronger. He wouldn't be able to push you in the first place."

I nod. Lewis is right.

_Yeah, look at you and look at me, Mitch. What's your problem? _I think.

"Whatever," Mitch waves it off, annoyed.

Mitch cuts in front of me and checks in first. The idiot.

"Next," the Peacekeeper calls.

I step forward and the Peacekeeper behind the desk grabs my hand roughly. She turns it over and jabs a needle into the skin on my fingertip. A bead of blood appears and she puts a DNA scanner to my finger. It beeps to show that I have passed.

Another Peacekeeper shoves me aside and Lewis checks in.

We find our section and stand quietly.

Then a few bells chime from the Justice Building and our district mayor walks out onstage. He welcomes us and reads us the Treaty of Treason.

I clench my fists as he reads the words written by the vile President Snow. My fingernails dig into my skin, forcing myself not to go into a rage of anger.

Lewis looks me questioningly and I just clench my teeth.

_Of all the things you had to do to us, you had to make us die! Tell me where my parents are you disgusting heap of human! _That's what I want to yell right now. At least, not at the mayor, at the president.

Then a woman walks out onstage. Her skin is a dark blue and there are little gems encrusted on her arms and face. Her hair is a startling silvery blonde.

"My name is Flair Trinket and I will be your District 12 escort! Welcome to the Reaping of the 1st Annual Hunger Games! I am very honored to be serving as your escort. But to start, I will draw the names of the tributes. Ladies first," she announces into the microphone.

She strides over to a large glass bowl filled with small slips of paper. She digs around for a moment and draws one out. Then she goes to the microphone and speaks, opening the paper slowly.

"Anne-Lace Hawthorne."

A gasp goes out among the crowd. Most know who this girl is.

Anne-Lace, the blonde haired girl from the Seam, walks out onto the stage, head high, looking small and tough.

My blood boils at the sight of this. Anne-Lace Hawthorne is only twelve years old.

"And now for the boys," Flair Trinket says.

I take some deep breaths before the Capitol citizen returns to the microphone with the name of the tribute.

"Ian Dark."

Lewis's head whips around to face me, eyes wide. Most of the other boys whip around and face me. Even Mitch looks surprised.

_My name is River Sands, _I think. _And I am from District 3. I will not do this! I WILL NOT DIE IN THE HUNGER GAMES!_

I frown, swallow once, and mount the stage.

Goodbye, District 12. Goodbye, Eleanor, Kurt, and Demetra. Goodbye Lewis. And goodbye River Sands.

* * *

_Anne-Lace Hawthorne, 12 years, District 12_

The sky is purple, orange, gray, and red. Early morning. The smell of fresh rain on the already damp world.

The memory of my early morning climb in the forest outside of District 12 comes rushing back to me as I stand in my section during the Reaping for the first ever Hunger Games.

We are not allowed in the forest. But I go anyways. It means freedom. Away from the Peacekeepers. Away from the hacking coughs of the miners. Away from the bullies I beat up in the schoolyard when they pick on someone under twice their size. Away from the cries of starvation that haunts District 12. The forest means being who I am. Stong. Tough. Independent. Climbing trees makes me feel like nothing bad could ever happen to me while I'm in the forest.

But I may not ever see the forest again if my name is read off of a paper from one of the two glass bowls onstage.

I look around and spot my two brothers, Job and Dan. Job is eighteen and Dan is fifteen.

Job nods at me and half-smiles encouragingly. Dan makes a weird face that I just roll my eyes at. He's such a jokester.

I'm closer to Job than I am to Dan, despite Dan and I being closer in age. Job is more serious, like me, and understands my logical way of thinking. I think I'm more like him than I am like Dan. Dan is very silly and doesn't mind making all of us laugh once in a while with some stupid joke or prank he's pulled.

I look back up at the stage, many others staying just as silent as I am.

I feel a nudge in my thin ribs and turn my head to find that it's my friend, Julia. I call her Jules for short.

"What?" I whisper.

"I don't like this," she whispers back. "It's too quiet for my taste. Why can't they just start this Reaping already?"

I sigh. Jules can be VERY impatient when it comes to things she dislikes. Like bullies.

"I'm sure it's almost two. They can't wait much longer," I reply. "They'll probably let us know when it's—"

I'm cut off by bells. I frown and look confusedly up at the stage. The mayor walks out.

"See? It'll be over soon," I say, gesturing to the stage.

The mayor welcomes us and instructs us of how the Reaping will run. Then he reads the Treaty of Treason.

This brings me back to when I first heard of the Games. I was at home with mom, dad, Dan, and Job. We were eating dinner when the television came on. The new president, Snow, came on. He's a young president, only eighteen or nineteen, close to Job's age. He announced the coming of a new age and how the Hunger Games will start in six months.

I was shocked. It was crazy to me. It still is crazy to me. This is insane, this whole idea. I hate it with all my heart.

A woman walks out onstage. Her skin sparkles with small gems and is dark blue, like the night sky. Her hair a almost silvery yellow and glows like the moon. She is a living night sky.

"My name is Flair Trinket and I will be your District 12 escort! Welcome to the Reaping of the 1st Annual Hunger Games! I am very honored to be serving as your escort. But to start, I will draw the names of the tributes. Ladies first," she announces into the microphone.

My breath stops and I almost don't need oxygen at all. My heart seems to beat louder and louder, and I'm sure Gen can hear it.

I squeeze my eyes shut as she walks back over to the microphone, a small piece of pure white paper in her hand.

"Anne-Lace Hawthorne."

My name echoes around the Town Square. My name. _My name._

My mind is blank and I calmly shuffle forward onto the stage.

As my feet go up each step, one word repeats in my mind.

_Death, death, death, death, death..._

I stand on the stage near Flair Trinket. She gives me a small but reassuring smile before announcing the boy's name.

"Ian Dark."

This name is very familiar to me. I have heard it uttered by Dan many times. Dan respects Ian very much, as Ian never seems to care what anyone thinks of him. I wish I could be like that, because I wonder what tributes from the other districts will think when they see me; the tiny, blonde-haired, blue-eyed twelve year old from District 12.

Ian stands next to me onstage as Flair Trinket wraps up the Reaping. We are told to shake hands.

I turn to Ian and we do.

Peacekeepers usher us into the Justice Building.

I am placed in a black and white velvet room. It already has dust on the windowsills, even though the building is relatively new.

I turn slowly from the dark wooden double doors and stare at the room blankly.

What is wrong with me? I'm having a hard time focusing.

A tear slips out one of my eyes and I frustratedly brush it away. I stomp over to the black couch and sink down into one of its soft cushions.

I begin to sob.

_I'm only twelve, _I think. _I can't die now! I have so much more life to live!_

Tears drip noiselessly onto the carpet.

Suddenly, the doors burst open and I stand, wiping tears away quickly. Job comes in and picks me up in gigantic hug. He shakes slightly, giving me clues that he's also crying.

Mom, dad, and Dan come in after him, sobbing just as much as he is.

We all hug for a very long time.

Finally, Job sets me down.

"Be strong, Anne," he says. "I know you can do this. You're a Hawthorne. Hawthornes are smart people. We can solve most problems that come our way. Solve this problem."

"I will," I promise. He gives me another hug and steps out of the room.

Mom and dad tell me they love me and Dan tries to tell me a joke.

Then they leave and Gen comes in with our friends Poppy and Laura. They cry hard. I, by now, have stopped crying.

Then the Peacekeepers come and get me. They escort Ian and I out to a waiting car. Flair sits inside.

She says nothing on the car ride over. None of us do.

We reach the train station and there are television cameras everywhere.

The Peacekeepers help us out of the car and make us board the train. The train is absolutely amazing, and I'm just about to enter the first cabin when Flair stops me.

"Now, I must ask that you please wait to enter the train. We have certain issues we must clear before we can leave."

I frown questioningly, Ian doing the same.

"The Capitol has insisted you be allowed some sort of assistance in Hunger Games strategy. They've asked for mentors," Flair continues.

"Mentors?" I say. "Do they help us figure out what we're going to do in terms of survival or something?"

"Precisely," Flair nods. "They will help you live. They can send you something if you absolutely need it."

"So why does this include us not leaving?" I wonder. "I don't mean to be rude, but it doesn't make sense for us not to leave yet."

_I just want to get my death over with, _I think glumly.

Flair sighs.

"Well, uh...here's the thing...you're choosing your mentor from your own district."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed the little twist at the end! ;)**

**2 reviews=new chapter! (:**


	14. The Train Rides

**Hey guys! You have no idea how exciting it is NOT to be writing a Reaping! I got VERY tired of those.**

**Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I've been busy this summer and haven't had a lot of time to work on this story. And I would have updated yesterday, but this has taken me so long to write! Sorry if it's not my best work.**

**I'm almost done working on the script for the movie and only need one more cast member for the role of Maka from District 3. Now, for the movie, not all the actors look like the characters they play, so not too much hate when it comes out, okay? And not all may be the best actors in the world, but this movie is just for fun and I wanted my friends to play the roles of the tributes.**

**Hope you enjoy the train rides! Three reviews=a new chapter!**

**Here's a list of all the tributes in the Games:**

**District 1: Ivory Spindel, Matthew Harrington**

**District 2: Katherine Jasmine Thomas, Derek James Martins**

**District 3: Electra Mesa, Maka Kaas**

**District 4: Aki Chung-Feng, Liam Creek**

**District 5: Ash Trellis, Fernando Aguilar**

**District 6: Wryn Linford, Narcissus Brone**

**District 7: Mana Greeves, Brow Ojay**

**District 8: Josephine Callum, Thread Kell**

**District 9: Sadie Hawkins, Wheat Albion**

**District 10: Feven Piers, Dustin Brand**

**District 11: Penny Cooper, Ethan Pearson**

**District 12: Anne-Lace Hawthorne, River Sands**

**Two reviews=new chapter!**

**Sing Out! (:**

**SW**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim any copyrights to the ideas of Suzanne Collins and her book series **_**The Hunger Games.**_

* * *

_Matthew Harrington, 13 years, District 1_

* * *

"Mentor? MENTOR? I don't need a flippin' mentor!"

I mentally wince as Ivory's voice rises. There's something strange going on with her. Something I know I can't trust.

"Look, it's just protocol," groans the Head Peacekeeper. "I'm only doing my job. Now choose someone or we'll choose for you!"

"Fine," she huffs like a big baby. "Cotton Spindel, my older brother."

The Peacekeeper nods and turns to me. "And you?"

"Sasha Baraclyes," I say.

The Head Peacekeeper nods once more and turns to the mayor who waits just outside on the platform of the train station.

"Come, come, you two!" coos Gypsy Damien. "Into the lounge car now."

The Capitolite ushers us into a lavish train car. But I don't pay attention to the furnishings or delightful smells that waft up from the snacks on the big table to the right. I head straight to the open window to watch as they pick out Sasha from the crowd.

The mayor speaks. "Welcome everyone once again to the sending off of our tributes. However, the tributes are allowed one friend or family member to accompany them to the Capitol to serve as a mentor. This mentor will be a sort of support system for the tributes and will manage their campaign while the tribute is in the Games. Each tribute has already named their mentor. If your name is called, please come forward."

There is a pause as the crowd erupts into hushed whispers.

"Ivory Spindel, our female tribute, has chosen Cotton Spindel."

I see a tall, scruffy, dirty-blonde haired man shuffle forward. He looks disappointed. Didn't Ivory say that this was her brother? Why does he seem so annoyed?

"Matthew Harrington has chosen Sasha Baraclyes."

I watch as Sasha walks with her head held high to where the mayor stands.

"NO! No, she can't go!" I hear Mrs. Baraclyes cry out.

"You can't take our daughter!" Mr. Baraclyes shouts angrily.

"They will be returned home at the end of the Games," confirms the mayor.

Then the door to the lounge car slides open, revealing Cotton Spindel in the doorway.

"Cotton!" screams Ivory happily. "Oh, Cotton, I'm so glad you're here!"

Sasha spots me, eyes bright. She tries to hug me, but I gesture for her to stop. She gives me a questioning look, but halts.

"Pfffff," scoffs Cotton, "you're not glad to see me in the least, Ives. Are you kidding me?"

"Cotton!" Ivory gasps. "How can you say such a thing! You know I—"

"Shut it, sis."

"But, but, Cott—"

"I said shut it!"

Cotton storms out frustratedly, Ivory hot on his heels. Gypsy follows, trying to reason with the siblings.

_It won't work, _I think bitterly. _They both seem crazy to me._

I glance over at Sasha.

"Can I hug you now?" she asks quietly.

I nod. She charges over and leaps into my arms.

"Why did you choose me?" she whispers shakily.

I stop hugging her and hold her at arm's length. "Who was I supposed to pick, Sasha? Glow? Jacob? No way. You're my best friend and the only one I trust. I couldn't think of anyone better than you to help me in the Games. Besides, when I die—"

"What?" she bursts. "WHEN you die?!"

"I-I mean if," I cover quickly.

_No I don't, _I think glumly. _I mean when._

Sasha eyes me suspiciously. "You better try as hard as you can not to die, Matthew Harrington, 'cause I can't live without you."

* * *

_Katherine Jasmine Thomas, 16 years, District 2_

* * *

I look back at my district before stepping onto the train. I may not come home. I might not ever see Rissa and Trish again. I may never laugh at Lilly's stupid but corny jokes again.

I stand inbetween two train cars with Argyle and Derek. The twelve year old tribute is trying to stand up straighter and is puffing out his chest as if trying to impress me.

Despite what I'm feeling, I hold back a chuckle. Does he really think I'm focusing on boys at a time like this?

"S-s-s-so," Argyle stammers, "I-I-I kn-know y-you m-might b-b-b-b-b-be a-a b-b-bit n-nervous c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-coming h-here r-r-right n-now, b-b-but y-you'll b-be o-okay o-o-once y-you g-g-get s-s-some—"

"Okay, you're taking too long to tell them anything," grumps the Head Peacekeeper from outside the train. "Tributes, you're allowed to choose a friend or family member to come help you or we'll choose someone for you."

"Does someone have to come?" I question.

"Yes," says the Peacekeeper. "Now pick."

I immediately give my answer. "Lilliane Jay."

"And you, little guy?"

Derek frowns. "Hey, I am not little!"

"Whatever," says the Head Peacekeeper. "Are you going to say who you want to come with you?"

"I don't have anyone I want to come with me," replies Derek.

The Head Peacekeeper orders the Peacekeeper next to him. "Go get the rebel bowl."

The Peacekeeper disappears for a moment and comes back with another glass bowl.

I frown as I realize the 'rebel bowl' is like the ones used for the Reaping, only now the bowl is full of names of the Dark Days veterans.

Derek and I stand in the middle of the two train cars as the mayor struts out to another podium just left of the door to the train.

"Hello again, everyone!" she announces. "There are a few matters that must be taken care of before our lovely tributes will leave for the Capitol! Both have been asked to choose a mentor to accompany them to the Capitol. This mentor will be their personal advice guru before the Hunger Games officially begin. Our female tribute, Katherine, has chosen Lilliane Jay to be hers. Lilliane, please come forward!"

I watch as blonde-haired Lilly frowns and walks rapidly forward. She gives me a strange look before turning and facing the crowd.

"And Derek has not chosen, so his mentor's name will be selected from this bowl of all the war veterans," the mayor says cheerily. She reaches in and plucks one from the very top. "Coriander Sky."

_Who is that? _I wonder.

A man who looks to be no older than me steps forward. His hair is a medium brown and short. I think I've seen him before...but it was awhile ago. Maybe in training?

"Thank you all for coming! Enjoy the Games!"

And with that, Lilly and Coriander are shoved into the train.

"L-l-l-lovely t-to m-m-meet y-you b-b-b-b-b-b-both," stammers Argyle nervously, twiddling his webbed fingers.

"Why don't we go into the next car?" I suggest. I look at the door in confusion...no door handle...

Wordlessly, Argyle pushes a button and the door wooshes open. I quickly enter, followed closely by Lilly.

For some reason, a song flows through my head as I sit on the sofa next to the window.

_So I'm putting my defenses up_

'_cause I don't wanna fall in love_

_If I ever did that, I think I'd have a heart attack_

Where did that come from? I think Flora used to sing it before she died...

Tears slide into the corner of my eyes and I hastily wipe them away. Thinking of Flora reminds me of Rissa and Trish. I'll cry later with Lilly.

Speaking of Lilly, she plops down next to me.

"Hi," she says quietly. She puts an arm around me. "Long time no see."

I have to smile slightly. "Hey, Lilly."

Derek sits down across from us with Coriander, his mentor.

"Hey, there, I'm James," he says cockily. Coriander gives him a weird look.

"I thought your name was Derek," he says.

"It is, but all my friends call me James, my middle name," the tribute explains.

Lilly stares out the window at the moving landscape, not looking at the pathetic twelve year old boy across from me.

"Coriander," says Coriander, offering his hand.

I look at it hesitantly, but want to be polite, so I shake. "Kaja. For some reason, you seem familiar."

"Well, I'm only eighteen," he replies.

I raise my eyebrows. He's a veteran?

I nod. I do the same as Lilly and stare out the window.

This is one of the weirdest situations I've ever been in and I really don't want this to be one of my last memories. But it's a little too late for that because the Hunger Games are just around the corner.

* * *

_Electra Mesa, 15 years, District 3_

* * *

I chose my father as my mentor. Out of all my friends and the people I trust, I choose my father, the person who decides to ignore me. I rely on my friends. I don't rely on my dad. So why did I pick him? Because he's one of the smartest people I've ever met in my entire life.

I'm in my room, wondering why I'm here in this moving train with the crazy Cokey Xuthus, a boy with a girl's name, and my arrogant but intelligent dad.

I groan and fall back onto my bed, still in my reaping clothes. I glance around the room in grudging awe. Everything is so very modern. It makes me yearn to learn how everything works. How does the touchpad for the closet generate its results? How does the food I order out of the microphone in the corner appear so quickly?

There's a soft tap-tap on my sliding door.

"Come in," I say. "But if you're Cokey, then go away."

The door opens and I sit up. Maka Kaas is standing in my doorway.

"What do you want?" I grump.

"We need to talk," he tells me. "Can I come in?"

I sigh. "Why not?"

Maka steps in, the door whooshing shut after him. He stands there awkwardly, fidgeting like crazy.

"Um, so..." he says. "I-I thought that I'd, um, tell you that I don't want to be your enemy."

I scowl. "Than what are we supposed to be? Friends?"

Maka nods. "I was hoping you'd be okay with that."

I look down at the squishy, black carpeted floor in hesitation. Friends?

"Is that even allowed?"

"I heard Cokey complaining about some sort of unnecessary rule about alliances," Maka suggests. "And I don't mind the idea of someone to have my back."

_But this is a contest of survival, _I think. _What's the point of alliances if all but one of us are going to die? But I do like the idea of relying on someone I can trust._

"Well, you are from my district," I say. "And that's more of a reason to trust you than anyone else. Know anything about technology?"

My fellow tribute nods. "A bit."

"Good," I say. "So what do we do in an alliance?"

"I'm not really sure, to be honest," Maka replies. "I'll get back to you when I know."

And with that, he exits, leaving me once again to my thoughts.

* * *

_Liam Creek, 15 years, District 4_

* * *

I never expected to be treated so well as a tribute. This dining car is really something!

Trident gives me a look that screams _look at all this food! _He seems a bit more upbeat than I am. But there's a perfectly good explanation for that: I MAY BE DEAD IN A WEEK!

Despite my life and death doom that will arrive in just a few short days, I'm glad my brother is here with me as my mentor. I have hardly spoken one word to Aki and her chosen mentor, Heathcliffe. But he's been asked to just be called Cliffe. No offense to him, but what kind of name is Cliffe? I think he's from the poorer area of the district, like Trident and I. I know for a fact Aki's father is a merchant of some sort. She looks much more well fed than any of the rest of us.

And then there's Diamond Calixto, our escort. As strange as it may be, Diamond has been very kind and didn't make a big fuss over us when we said we'd never eaten things like this before. She somehow understands our way of life, I guess.

"Alright, now it's required that all of us watch the other Reapings," Diamond tells us half-heartedly.

I stomp into my room and throw on the first thing that pops up in the closet, a black t-shirt and gray sweats. I throw them on, go out, and knock on my brother's door.

"Oh, hey," Trident greets. "Ready to see your competition?"

I sigh. I don't feel like joking around at all. "Okay."

We slump into the next train car and sit haphazardly on the first couch we see. Aki and Cliffe are already seated. His arm is around her and their fingers are intertwined.

_Oooooohhhhh..._I think. _Dating...right..._

We all sit in the plush room, waiting as a VERY awkward minute passes.

Finally, the sleek television flickers to life, relieving the uncomfortable atmosphere in the car.

Diamond enters quickly and sits in a lone armchair in the middle of the room.

Two Capitol presenters welcome us all to a showing of the Reapings of each district.

"Let's get to it then!" says the woman with magenta hair. "First up is District 1!"

I watch warily as a smug blonde and a tall, younger boy are chosen. The girl looks somewhat nice, but the boy's facial expression shows literally no emotion.

District 2 gives us another no-hassle Reaping. A shorter, brown haired girl is picked along with an even smaller twelve year old boy who seems to think he's all that and a fillet of fancy salmon.

Then the action comes from District 3. The girl tribute _volunteers. _Aki gasps at this, her hand going to her mouth in surprise.

I almost laugh when the district escort thinks the boy tribute is actually a girl and the guy defends himself with a sort of smart-alecky comment. Kind of sounds like something I would say...

District 4. Me and Aki.

I lean forward in my seat as I watch my name be announced. I look slightly shocked at the result, but okay, nonetheless. Aki looks the same, although, I'm not sure how she was feeling at the time.

A girl with a disabled leg surprises us all in the District 5 reaping by volunteering and the boy, a black-haired wiry kid with glasses, just stumbles up to the stage. They seem to be in a bit of an intense argument when their reaping ends.

In District 6, the girl, Wryn, is called and the guy, who's name I'll never forget (Narcissus) eagerly scurries to the front of the stage and creeps on Wryn. Weirdest one yet...

Then in District 7, something peculiar happens. The girl's name is called. A teen with bright blonde hair and blue eyes mounts the stage. But the guy tribute has already volunteered. How does that work?

District 8 provides an athletic looking girl and a tall, broad-shouldered boy named, of all things, Thread.

District 9 really captures my attention. The guy is like an older version of me! He looks kind of like Trident.

"That's just freaky," Trident comments in amazement, eyes going from the guy on screen to me on the couch.

The girl in District 10 freaks out and faints after her name is called. The guy is quiet and nonexpressive.

District 11 has two tributes that seem to already know each other well. A little _too _well. And the girl acts like she's all that.

Then, in District 12, another twelve year old is chosen. This time it's a small, blonde haired girl. The boy is fidgety and rocks back and forth on his heels, as if he's hiding something.

Then the broadcast ends. Nobody speaks.

I've just seen the faces of people who will be my greatest enemies in the arena. All I can wonder is which of all these tributes will be the one to kill me?

* * *

_Fernando Aguilar, 15 years, District 5_

* * *

Ash Trellis is one of the most insane human beings I have ever met. Even her chosen mentor, a girl named Rosie, seems terrified of her.

"So why did you choose me?" Angelica whispers to me as we sit on a sofa across from the crazy tribute.

"'Cause you're my best friend," I say. "I thought that was obvious."

"Well, I'm going to be stuck with her while you're in the Games!" she complains.

I frown. "At least you don't have to worry about not dying! I'm the one who might be killed at any minute in the arena!"

"Okay, okay," admits Angelica, "you win. Sorry."

"What are you whispering about?" Ash demands.

"Um...j-just nothing. We—"

"Angelica and I were just wondering if your leg is okay," I make up on the spot. "S-so how did..._that _happen?"

Ash scowls at us and squints doubtfully. "I'd rather not mention it."

"Well, someone in the Capitol is bound to ask," I counter.

"That doesn't mean you need to know," she retorts spitefully.

Rosie speaks up shakily. "Ash, please—"

"SHUT UP!" shouts Ash.

I wince and Angelica must jump five miles.

"What's your problem?" I mutter.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Ash screams in my face. I lean way back in my chair. Her face is too close to mine. Those silver eyes are really scary!

"Well, first of all," I say, pushing her back, "I have a personal bubble that extends an arms length away, so please don't invade it. Secondly, I said 'what's your problem?'"

"What's my problem?" Ash growls, clenching her fists. "What's my PROBLEM?!"

She explodes into fits of shaking and yelling, making the rest of us cower in fear. I really don't like this girl!

"ChildrenstopyellingbecauseIneedmybeautyrestbefore wegettotheCapitoltomorrowsokeepthenoiseleveldownth ankyou," calls Berry Gig from the next car.

Ash stops and takes in an angry breath. Then she calmly sits and glares at me.

Oh, boy, these next few days before the Games are going to be very long.

* * *

_Wryn Linford, 14 years, District 6_

* * *

Russel Bear is my mentor. He must be about fifty-five and seems to be very intelligent. Once I tell him about my skills, maybe he'll have the perfect strategy for me and I might actually stand a chance of winning these Games.

But for now, I have to sleep. Red, the district escort, told us we should be to the Capitol by tomorrow morning.

I think of everything that's happened today. The Reaping sticks profusely in my mind. I can still see Chloris's determined face from the stage. I'll miss her so much. Heck, I'll miss all my family already!

I let a few tears slip out and I roll onto my side, facing the wide, curtain covered window. I close my eyes and try to relax, letting the tears roll down my face in silence.

I finger the smooth locket mom gave me before the Peackeepers came. Another reminder of home. A place I'll never see again.

I hear a quiet sliding sound and cushioned footsteps.

I snap open my eyes and roll back over to face the door.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" I scream. There's a figure standing over me!

I immediately jump out of bed and karate kick the figure in the stomach.

"Hey!" says the person.

I realize that the person in my room is Narcissus! That creeper!

I stay in my karate pose and scowl. "What the heck do you think you're doing, Brone?!"

"I was just going to see if you were okay," he says. "I wanted to talk!"

"You could have knocked!" I suggested. "Now get out before I kick you again, or worse!"

"Oh, come on, Wryn," he groans. "I need someone to talk to."

"Yeah, right you do. Now I said GET OUT! Go talk to your dad!" I bellow furiously. "And don't call me Wryn!"

I push him forcefully through my doorway.

"Then what am I supposed to call you?" Narcissus wonders.

"Nothing at all," I spit. "I don't want you talking to me!"

And with that, I shut my sliding door and lock it for good measure. Maybe now I can sleep without being interrupted by the erratic guy tribute. Ugh, I can't even bear to say his name!

* * *

_Brow Ojay, 17 years, District 7_

* * *

Out of all the Dark Days veteran's I got stuck with, I get Fire Man! FIRE MAN! Seriously? What the heck?! And apparently his real name is Jeremiah Ovens. Ovens. What a pathetic last name!

And that girl, Mana, she seems pretty quiet. I haven't said anything to her and she hasn't said anything to me, thank goodness.

"So, Brow," Fire Man begins to start a conversation. "What are your greatest strengths?"

I sniff and begin. "Well, I'm strong, likeable, handsome, strong, handy with an axe, and strong. Did I mention strong?"

Mana stifles something that seems to be a laugh and I glare at her. "Got a problem, Greeves?"

"Nope," she denies with a straight face. "No problem here."

"And your weaknesses?" asks Fire Man.

I laugh in his face. "Weaknesses? What weaknesses?"

Fire Man looks at me calmly. "Everyone has weaknesses, Brow."

"Not everyone," I scoff. "I don't, obviously."

"Everyone does. The sooner you learn that the better. Now I'm going to go to bed. It's too late for me," says the old man.

Then he stands and shuffles out of the room with his big wooden cane.

"What a dirtbag!" I chuckle. "Seriously? What does he know about strengths and weaknesses?"

Mana glares at me and I stop. "What?"

"That 'old dirtbag' was the leader of the rebels in District 7," she says. "He knows more about strategy and war than anyone else I've ever known. You should listen to him. He's a wise man."

Now she thinks she knows everything, too! What's wrong with these people?

"At least my father didn't get shot by Peacekeepers," I counter smugly.

Heck yeah! I got her on that one!

Mana spins slowly on her heel, her jaw clenched. "Don't. You. DARE. Mention. My. Father."

Then without another word, she storms out of the car to the sleeping quarters.

Winning these Games will be a piece of cake!

* * *

_Josephine Callum, 14 years, District 8_

* * *

All I can think of is Harry's little face, pleading me not to leave. It makes me shake with dread and mourning.

_Goodbye, Harry, _I think as the train rolls away from the station. _I love you, Harry. I love you, Uncle Patrick. Goodbye, goodbye..._

The train picks up speed and we go rolling along the landscape of District 8 smoothly.

My mentor, rebel veteran Jay Axel, seems nice enough, but he mutters a lot. Mostly to himself. He left immediately for his room. I think he has some sort of mental condition. The poor man.

Right now it's just me and Thread in the lounge car. Thread is standing by the window, watching the land pass quickly by, further and further away from home in Village #3.

Thread chose his brother, Denim, as his mentor. However, Denim is also in his room, probably sleeping.

"So you're Josephine?" asks Thread quietly.

"Y-yeah," I reply.

"I've seen you around," he says. "You're really good at sports."

I nod politely. "Thanks."

"So..." he whistles. "Wh-what do you think the games will be like?"

I shake my head and look down at my shoes. "I don't know. Kashmir hasn't told us much of anything. Maybe we'll learn more tomorrow."

"I hope so," Thread says. "I don't like being kept in the dark about anything."

"Neither do I," I say.

Wow, I think this is the most I've talked to anyone at school in quite a while! This is new.

"So when did Kashmir say we'd be in the Capitol?" Thread wonders.

I shrug. "I think she said tomorrow morning sometime."

And just like that, and against my better judgement, I made a new friend.

* * *

_Wheat Albion, 18 years, District 9_

* * *

"Sadie, I don't know if I can do this," I say unevenly, sitting with my head in my hands on the couch.

We've just watched the Reapings. Two twelve year olds were chosen. It breaks my heart to have seen them up on the stage. The boy looked like he didn't care, but the girl from twelve?

"I can't kill those kids!"

"Maybe you won't have to," she replies.

"You don't know that, Sadie," I answer. "What if they try to kill me first?"

"Then you do what you have to do," she says quietly. "Even if it means—"

"Don't say it!" I cry. "I don't want to hear it!"

"Sorry," she says.

I sit up and look her in the eye. "Why are you handling this so well?"

My friend gulps and looks away. She pauses for a moment, then sighs in frustration. "Because I know whether or not I find Basil, I'm going to die."

I start to protest, but she holds up a hand to cut me off.

"Don't say anything, Wheat. I know exactly what you're going to tell me, and I don't want to hear it," she says, irritated. "Look, I just have this horrible feeling I'm not going to make it home. But I know you will."

"Sadie, you can't—"

But I'm cut off once again.

"Goodnight, Wheat."

She stands and quickly exits without letting me say anything else.

She can't just give up on herself that easily! Is she crazy?

* * *

_Feven Piers, 14 years, District 10_

* * *

I wake up in a black and red room. The bed is comfy, but that's not the point!

I frantically sit up and look at my surroundings. Where the heck am I? This isn't home!

Fear suddenly fills my whole being as I remember everything. The Reaping! I was chosen as a tribute!

Tears flood my eyes as I suddenly am terrified of my room. The last thing I remember is the district escort Plato Evin and all those girls looking at me like I'm weird!

I cry harder. Public humiliation is one of my very worst fears!

I feel very disoriented! I stumble out the door and down a white hallway into a room full of people.

"Feven!" I hear one person cry.

I recognize that voice! It's dad! I spot him hurrying over to me. An unfamiliar boy, the other tribute, looks confused.

I cling desperately to a familiar face and scent. "Dad! Dad, where are we?"

Dad picks me up like a baby and puts me back in my room. "We're on the train, honey. We're going to the Capitol."

"For the Games?!" I yell. "No! NO, dad! I can't do this! I'm too young to die!"

Dad sighs unsteadily. "Feven, you need to be calm. You're going to be fine. Now rest."

He forces me to lay down on the bed and pulls the covers back up over my body.

I whimper as he starts to leave. "Dad…don't leave me."

"Okay, honey, I won't," he whispers. He holds my hand as everything turns fuzzy and I fade away back into slumber.

* * *

_Ethan Pearson, 17 years, District 11_

* * *

"Ethan? ETHAN!" I hear an annoying but familiar voice call. "Get over here now!"

I groan and slide off my comfortable new bed in irritation. "I'm coming, Penny!"

I exit my own room and enter hers. My girlfriend is awesome, but sometimes she can be a little…what's the word? Unreasonable.

"What's u…" I start. But then I see her in a fancy dress and I go slack. Hey, a guy's got to love his girlfriend in a formal dress. Man, she looks beautiful!

"Hey," she says, still looking at her perfect reflection in the mirror. "How does this dress look?"

I blink rapidly several times in order for my brain to process what she's just said. "Gorgeous."

Penny smiles happily. "Good! I was going to wear the one with peek-a-boo side slits, but that one was just too much. This one is perfect!"

"Peek-a-boo side slits?" I quiz her in confusion.

"Yeah, like ones that show skin?" she says in an obvious tone. "This one is much better. This silver is perfect for my skin tone. Do I seriously look okay for dinner?"

"Uh, heck yeah," I agree with a smile. "Wait, dinner? Penny, I don't think we're going to need to be dressed up. I'm just wearing jeans and a t-shirt."

"Well sure," she says, adjusting her hair, "if you want to look like a slob, be my guest."

I glance down at my shirt, frowning. How does this look slob-ish?

"My shirt doesn't even have a stain and you're calling me a slob?" I wonder in confusion.

She walks up to me and stares me straight in the eye. "Yes."

Then she kisses me on the lips and flounces out. I frown again. What just happened?

"Penny," I call, following her out into the dining car.

I enter and she is already seated along with the disgusting Choco Man, my mom, and Penny's older sister Iris.

I chose my mother to be my mentor. She's one of the smartest people I know. Why Penny chose Iris, I'm not sure. She hates her sister with a passion. But Iris is also smart and very nice, so—

"Ethan!" scolds Penny. "Sit!"

I do what she says so obediently, she decides to give me another kiss.

"Let's eat! I'm starving!" Penny says cheerily.

I sigh.

_Got to accept each other's flaws, _I think. _Penny may just have more than the average human. She's a fantastic girlfriend…right?_

* * *

_Anne-Lace Hawthorne, 12 years, District 12_

* * *

I chose my brother to be my mentor. It was a very clear choice. I trust Job and know he'll give me good advice on survival. And besides, I know that if I die, he'll still come back home, even if I don't. Well, I will, just not alive…

I already miss the forest. I want to climb a tree so badly, my feet start to twitch.

Job gave me funny looks all throughout dinner.

The other tribute, Ian Dark, seems a bit odd. He fiddles with his own fingers a lot and his eyes dart around, constantly alert. It's kind of creepy, but he seems nice enough.

Ian's mentor, Chile Parisian, is woman in her late thirties with dark red hair. She's got lots of scars on her arms and hands because of the war. She told us about being in District 5 when the Capitol sent firebombs. She told us the story of how she was caught in an explosion near one of the factories. It made Job wince.

Flair Trinket, however, has proven to be very annoying. She loves talking about the latest fashions. Apparently, jewels and silver are very popular in the Capitol. And, unfortunately, so are cat ears and morphing mermaid tails. Hooray.

My head hurts not only thinking about dinner, but about the Reaping. Flair's voice echoes over and over in my mind, repeating the words that doomed my fate here as a Hunger Games tribute. _Ladies first…Anne-Lace Hawthorne…ladies first…Anne-Lace Hawthorne…_

I gingerly move a strand of long blonde hair from my eyes and watch as I am picked at the Reaping. President Snow has made it a requirement for every single person in the district to watch the recordings of all the reapings.

One the television flickers off, Flair scurries out of the room, complaining of wanting extra sleep for tomorrow was 'a big, big day!' Ian briskly walks out to his own train car and Chile walks the other way, to her own quarters. It's just Job and I left now.

"What's on your mind, Anne?" my brother wonders softly.

I snort. "Everything. I can't get today out of my head."

"You probably never will," Job comments. "Come on. Bed time."

I nod and we leave the room.

Job's right. I'll never forget today.

* * *

**Hope you all liked it! Took me a looooooooong time to write! :)**


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